A Time For Us
by Schmo and Sushi
Summary: Complete! What happens when a young woman throws her lyre at the king of Narnia? Arrania of Archenland is about to find out, and it's not at all what she expected. Edmund OC. Post H&HB. Rated T for suspense, nonsense humor, and Pevensies goofing off.
1. Chapter One

The first time I saw King Edmund, I threw my lyre at him. Now, it's not as violent as it may sound to you, because I assure you that it was a complete accident. It all came about as a result of my seemingly inborn clumsiness…

I had only been at Cair Paravel for a week and a day when my father, Lord Doravan of Archenland, advisor to the High King, came to my chambers with good news. I had been writing a letter to a friend in Archenland when he arrived.

"Arrania, I crave a word with you," he called, knocking on my bedchamber door. "Please?"

"Coming, Father." I folded the letter and tucked it into a drawer before adjusting the gold circlet on my brow and opening the door.

"Ah, excellent, daughter," my father said, twinkling his blue eyes at me. "May I come in?"

"Of course, Papa."

He came through the doorway and looked around my room, bright with the winter sunshine that streamed in through the east window. "I trust you are comfortable here, dear daughter?"

"Aye, Father," I replied with a smile. "It certainly isn't Archenland, but Narnia is a very beautiful country. They are kind people."

He glanced at my Narnian gown, a distinctly different style than I was used to. "I know it isn't home, but I hope it will only be a short while before you may return."

"Do you wish to get rid of me that quickly, sir?"

"Oh, of course not. Don't you start twisting my words around again," he added, shaking a finger at me.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Father."

"Very good. Well," he continued, "I see you've made good use of your time."

Indeed, I had. We had brought a fair supply of Archenlandian cloth and furniture with us to Cair Paravel, but the Narnians had showered us with many gifts. In the week or so we'd spent there, I had succeeded in making my rooms look fairly home-like, with Archenlandian bed clothes and curtains, but elegantly carved Narnian furniture. "Thank you, Father. But what did you come for? Certainly not to compliment me on my sense of design."

Father clapped his hands together. "Ah, yes. I have good news for you!"

"And what is that good news?"

"Patience, Arrania. You are much too hasty."

"Nay, Father. You are much too slow."

Father chuckled and twirled his long white beard between his fingers. "Well, I have seen to it that your lyre has been…repaired."

Such delight swelled in my heart at this that I threw my arms around Father's neck and kissed his wrinkled cheeks. "Thank you, Papa, thank you! I thought I'd never play it again after it fell into the Rush!"

"Now, now, Arrania," said Father gruffly. "Let's not have any of that. This is your nineteenth birthday present, and I won't have all your years of lady training come to nothing over a silly lyre."

I sighed and kissed his cheek again. "Do you have such little faith in me, sir? Nay, a lyre wouldn't bring about my wilding. For shame! I can be strong enough to keep ladyship until at least a new cittern."

Father tugged at a lock of my unruly brown hair. "Don't jest so, Arrania. We do not yet know how the Narnians take to ladies' humor."

"Aye, Papa," I replied, trying unsuccessfully to mask my grin.

"Now, then. I had Carilana put the lyre in your sitting room, and I—"

"Thank you, Papa," I exclaimed without letting him finish. I hurried through the door into the next room to find my beloved lyre sitting on a table. Its refinished wood shone in the light from the windows, and the water-damaged strings had been replaced with newer, stronger ones.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it, Papa! Thank you so very much!"

He smiled at me. "Well? Are you going to play for me or will I have to try to learn it myself?"

I picked up the instrument and ran my fingers across the U-shaped arms, marveling at how smooth the wood felt under my fingers, and how firmly set into the sound-chest the strings were. When I strummed a chord, three sweet, gentle notes filled the air. "Why, Father, it's even better than before it was ruined!"

"Thank King Peter's Narnian craftsmen, not me, dear daughter."

"Oh, I simply _must_ show Mirrana—if I have your leave, of course…"

Father waved a hand in the air. "By all mean, daughter. Who am I to prevent two such young ladies from gadding away the hours while the rest of us work for our livings? What a shameful thought."

"Thank you, Papa," I called over my shoulder, for I was already almost out the door. "I shall see you later."

With that, I hastened down the corridors and through halls toward the west end of Cair Paravel, where Mirrana, the Calormin ambassador's daughter, was lodged. I was just passing over a covered, sunlit bridge when a young man in a blue tunic came around the corner just ahead of me. It was at that moment that my foot, unaccustomed to the long Narnian gowns, caught on my hem and sent me tumbling to the flagstones. My lyre, however, flew into the air, _right at the young man in blue._

But the harp did not splinter on the ground, as I had feared. Instead, with agility borne of wielding swords and riding horses, the man lurched forward and _caught_ my lyre. "Are you quite all right, my lady?" he asked when I'd regained my footing.

"Aye, my lord, and all the better for your quick action."

"It's a beautiful lyre," he acknowledged, inspecting it. "I should feel terribly guilty if it were broken."

"It is newly repaired," I admitted. The stranger had the kind voice of a wise young man, but it had a certain boyish mischievousness to it.

"Here. I know not the art of lyre playing." He gave the instrument back to me with a sheepish grin. "I should want it in the hands of someone who obviously knows it."

"Thank you, my lord, again."

"It isn't a problem at all, Lady…er…"

"Pardon me, my lord—I am Arrania Ileana, daughter of Sir Willis Doravan of Archenland."

"How do you do, Lady Arrania. I am—"

"Edmund! Edmund!"

Down the hall towards us ran a girl in royal purple robes. Her brown hair fell straight down around her shoulders, or it would have if she'd been standing still. In any case, her round, shining face struck me as what a younger sister might look like.

"Hello, Lucy," the stranger said good-naturedly. "What is it?"

Lucy and I dropped curtsies to each other, but as she raised her head, it all suddenly made sense. These amiable people were none other than their royal highnesses King Edmund and Queen Lucy!

"Your Majesties," I breathed, and made the lowest and most respectful curtsy I think I have ever done in my life.

"You must be Lady Arrania," Queen Lucy said to me. "Your father is a much valued member of my brother Peter's court."

"I am very glad to hear it," I replied. "My father is a most kind man."

"Aye, that he is," King Edmund said. "And I shall be much surprised if his daughter is not the same."

To my horror, I felt a blush rising in my cheeks. "Thank you, Your Highness."

"Please," said Queen Lucy, "do call us 'King Edmund' and 'Queen Lucy'. It's so much nicer, don't you think? One tires of never being called by one's real name."

"That I shall, Queen Lucy," I said with a poorly disguised smile.

"Well, we trespass on your time no longer," King Edmund said. "But I insist upon hearing you on your lyre some time."

"Aye, King Edmund."

"And Lady Arrania," Queen Lucy said, "there is to be a grand ball tomorrow night in the great hall in honor of my eighteenth birthday. It would give me terrific honor if you would come. I would love to hear of Archenland from someone who is not an ambassador."

"Oh, aye, Queen Lucy. I would be delighted!"

"Tomorrow night, then? Aye, very good. Farewell, Lady Arrania."

King Edmund bowed and Queen Lucy curtsied, and I did the same. And as they went away from me, I decided that I rather liked Narnia's two younger monarchs.

* * *

_A/N: Written solely by Sushi!_


	2. Chapter Two

"My lady? My lady…?"

I opened my eyes blearily to see Carilana, my chambermaid, looking down at me with a hairbrush in one hand and a facecloth in the other. "Hmm…what is it, Cari?"

Cari harrumphed and pulled aside the curtains that kept the sun from streaming in through the east window. "It is not proper for young ladies to lie abed so late, I've told you a dozen score times. But this time, you've _really_ done it."

"What?"

Cari opened my wardrobe and pulled out, to my surprise, one of my nicest gowns. "You've lain abed so late that a visitor awaits you in the sitting room."

"Well, Cari, I _am_ sorry, you know. It was not in my intention at all."

Cari shook her head of auburn hair and clicked her tongue as I stumbled across the flagstones, shivering in my nightdress. "I do not blame you, child, but if you hadn't stayed with Lady Mirrana so late, the king wouldn't have to be kept waiting."

"The—_who?"_

"His Majesty King Edmund, lady."

"King—King _Edmund_?" I gasped. "Oh—why didn't you—why didn't you _say_ something? Quick, woman, give me that gown." I didn't wait for her to give the chestnut brown dress to me. Instead, I pulled it out of her hands and got into it myself.

"Haste makes waste, lady," Carilana said, deftly doing up the laces anyway.

"Does it in this case, Cari? I think not. Hand me that facecloth, if you will."

Carilana chuckled and brushed out my brown hair as I scrubbed the pale of sleep from my cheeks. "Young lady, what will I ever do with you?"

"Put my circlet on?" I asked tentatively.

Cari rolled her eyes and did so, then patted my cheeks and shooed me toward the door. "Make me proud, Arrania," she whispered with a wink. "It's not every day that a young woman gets to meet the king of Narnia."

I smiled at her, then took a deep breath and opened the door to my sitting room. Just as Cari had said, King Edmund was standing in _my_ receiving room, looking out the west window! "Good morrow, my lord king," I said, dropping a low curtsy.

"My lady Arrania," King Edmund said, turning from the window and bowing. "Good day to you, as well.

"I pray I didn't keep you waiting very long."

"Nay. I just was enjoying the view out of your window here."

"It is beautiful, isn't it?"

"By the lion, it is."

Then I remembered my manners. "Er…won't you please sit?" I asked.

"Aye, thank you."

The king sat on one of the Narnian chairs, and I chose the lone Archenlandian one that faced it. "For what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

The king ran a hand through his short, coal-colored hair, making it stand on end before he flattened it again, a habit that I would soon come to recognize as characteristic. "I did say yesterday that I wished to hear you on your lyre?"

"Of course, King Edmund."

"I hope you do not mind that I have come on that same mission."

"Of—of course not! I am delighted to play for you." I was not, to say the least. I enjoyed the lyre immensely, but I had never played for anyone other than my father, Mirrana, and Carilana. My hands began to quiver just thinking about the mistakes I could make.

"Here, lady." Carilana came out of nowhere with my lyre in her hands. When she bent over to hand it to me, she whispered in my ear, "You'll do beautifully, lady."

I gave her what I hoped was a courageous smile and took the lyre. "Thank you, Carilana."

She nodded and backed out of the room.

"What is your desire, my lord?" I asked, positioning the harp on my lap.

"Do you know any Archenlandian songs?"

"Of course, my lord. I was born and raised there."

"Do go on, then."

I wracked my brain for any hint of music that I could play. Panic settled in as I realized I could not think of any! "I hope you will forgive me, King Edmund. I seem to have momentarily lost my head. I mean—forgotten what I was going to play."

King Edmund chuckled easily, his bright blue eyes crinkling in the corners, despite the fact that he was a young man. I couldn't help but laugh, too, and as I did, a familiar melody came rushing back to me.

"This is something that my mother sang to me before she—when I was young, my lord."

"Do play it."

I ran my fingers across the strings and tuned them to the key I needed. "I will not impose my singing skills on you, King Edmund. They are…er…somewhat lacking."

He chuckled again. "I doubt it, but as you wish."

So I ran my trembling fingers across the strings again and started plucking out the lilting lullaby. I quickly gained confidence, however, and began to play it the way I had learned, adding arpeggios and trills and the like, and enhancing the already lovely song with music of my own.

"That was brilliant," King Edmund said when I finished.

I winced, for we both knew that I'd slipped up many a time. "Thank you, my lord," I said anyway.

He flashed another smile at me, and I returned it. "My sister would enjoy that song."

"Aye, I think she would."

"Would it be…terribly rude if I asked you to play it for her tonight at the ball?"

"Of course not, my lord. Er…what time _is_ the ball, exactly?"

"Oh. Six o'clock, instead of the palace sup."

"I see."

"You will still come, will you not?"

"Aye, of course."

"Excellent. I shall tell my sister."

At that moment, my stomach complained loudly from lack of food. My cheeks grew crimson with shame, but King Edmund did not even bat an eyelash. Instead, he ran a hand through his hair and flattened it again. "I fear I have kept you longer than is needed—or healthy."

I bit the corners of my lips. "You do yourself wrong, my lord."

"Nay, my lady, I do _you_ wrong in keeping you from your day. I will take my leave from you, if you do not dissent."

"I do not."

"Then, my lady," the king said, standing, "we part."

I stood as well and curtsied. "Good day, my lord."

He bowed. "And to you, Lady Arrania." He turned to go, but just as he reached to open the door, he turned back. "I—_will_ see you tonight?"

"Of course, King Edmund."

He grinned and left. I stood by the window for a moment, thinking, and then turned back to my lyre. I had a lot of preparations to make if I was to play at a ball.


	3. Chapter Three

Before I knew it, the day had gone and it was nearly six o'clock. Carilana took more care helping me get ready this time around, choosing my nicest gown and consulting a book she'd gotten off of another serving woman for ways to prepare my hair. She chatted constantly the whole time, though, while I sat woodenly in the chair, hands shaking.

Finally, after about ten minutes, she realized that I was being unnaturally quiet. "What's the matter, girl?" she asked, plaiting a section of my hair with gold cord and pinning it up.

"I'm nervous," I replied, and pinched my lips together.

"About what?"

"His Majesty King Edmund asked me to play my lyre tonight for Queen Lucy."

She gathered the rest of my unruly russet-colored hair and ran a bone comb through it. "Why, you play beautifully! Don't be anxious."

"Too late."

"Stand up, please. I don't know why you're so worked up about this, my lady. You've been playing the lyre since you were yea high." She motioned to her knee and helped me into the heavy dark red gown.

"That's impossible, Carilana. I started when I was six."

Cari looked up at me and gave a consenting nod. "I doubt you were ever that tiny, Arrania."

I swatted at her, but she danced away with a grin. "Take it back."

She laughed and went over to my wardrobe, where she pulled out a small wooden box. "You've grown like a weed, lady. I daresay you're as tall as King Peter."

"I should hope not," I replied. "I am smaller than King Edmund, whom I hope is not any taller than the High King."

"That would give courtiers ideas about who was more fit to rule."

"Cari," I said reproachfully, "I doubt there is anyone who is as good a ruler as King Peter."

"Even King Lune?"

"Even King Lune."

Cari nodded approvingly. "I agree with you, girl. We are so alike, we are."

She was right. Ever since my mother, Lady Ileana, died when I was five, my nurse became like my mother. As I grew older, Nurse took the title Governess, and when I reached my thirteenth birthday, she became my chambermaid. Even though she was getting on in years, Carilana never left my side. And I never loved any woman half as much as I loved my Cari for it.

"My lady," Cari said, coming back from the wardrobe and holding the box out. "Your mother said that I was to give this to you when you were ready."

Startled as I was by this abrupt change in mood, I took the simple box and lifted the lid. Inside, resting on faded cloth of gold, was a delicately wrought circlet. It was slightly thinner than my own, but it did not close in the back to make a full circle. Rather, it looked like a crescent moon. "What is this for, Carilana?"

'This was the circlet your mother wore to her first ball, Arrania. Where she met your father."

"But it is broken."

"Nay, lady," Cari said, taking it tenderly from the box. She reached up and slid the ends into the place where the hair that she had pulled back from my face began to braid, and settled the curve over my forehead.

I touched it gently; the gold of the circlet faded effortlessly into the gold cord of the braids that had been pulled back from my temples and pinned at the back of my head. "Oh, Cari," I whispered. Tears welled up in my eyes, even as I wondered why.

"You look just like your mother," Cari said softly. Tears glistened in her eyes, too, and she pulled me close.

We both jumped when there was a knock at the door. "Arrania?"

It was my father. "Coming, Papa," I said, swiping at my eyes.

Cari smiled at me and patted my cheeks. "Have fun, child."

"I will." She handed me my lyre, and I went to join Father.

"Are you ready?" he asked, smoothing his moustache and offering his arm.

"I sure hope I am."

* * *

"Presenting the Lord Willis Mengridarum Doravan, advisor to His Majesty King Peter, High King of Narnia and Emperor of the Lone Islands, and his daughter, the Lady Arrania Ileana Doravan."

The herald re-rolled his scroll and stepped aside so my father and I could descend the stone steps into the Great Hall. There was a smattering of polite applause from the hundreds of guests gathered in the enormous hall, but they quickly ceased and returned to their babble. Try as I might, as we went into the crowd I could not keep my eyes from taking in all that there was to see! Noble ladies in gowns of all conceivable colors hung on the arms of gentlemen in tunics of equally brilliant shades; at least three score tables had been set up along the stone walls, which had been adorned with magnificent tapestries of heroes and great battles; the High Table, draped with red and gold trappings rested on a dais at the head of the room; and in the corner, a stiffly proper-looking ensemble of musicians tuned their instruments.

"What do you think of all this, Arrania, eh?" Father asked in a low voice, his grin nearly hidden by his, as usual, slightly scruffy-looking beard.

"It is _amazing_," I replied, clutching my lyre to my chest.

"The dancing begins shortly," he said, looking around. "I suppose you'll want to gallivant about with the young lads of court?"

"Father," I said reproachfully, blushing.

Father blinked innocently at me. "Did I say something offensive?"

I rolled my eyes.

There was a roll of raucous trumpet fanfare, drawing everyone's attention to the staircase as the herald stood straight at attention. "Announcing, His Majesty King Peter, High King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, Emperor of the Lone Islands, and knight of the Highest Order of the Lion."

The trumpets sounded again, and out onto the landing stepped a man in a red, velvety tunic. He wore a glittery sword strapped at his waist, and a great, rearing lion of gold was emblazoned on his chest. A golden crown rested upon his head of sandy blonde hair.

_The High King._

He descended the staircase and walked onto the main floor; his boots clicked softly on the flagstones, for it was now so quiet that one could've heard a pin drop. The guests immediately cleared a wide path straight to the High Table for him, but he went at a dignified pace, occasionally stopping to greet someone he knew well, or to kiss a lady's hand. As he neared the place where my father and I were standing, the people around us either curtsied or bowed, so we hurried to do the same. I kept my eyes low, so I saw only the soft, brushed deerskin of his boots as he stopped in front of us.

"Ah, Sir Willis," he said. His voice was pleasant and deep, but a certain strength in it suggested that it could easily be made to rally troops on the battlefield or shout commands that would be immediately obeyed. "I am glad you could be here tonight."

"As am I, Your Majesty," my father replied.

"If you have time during sup, I have someone I would like you to meet."

"Of course, Your Majesty."

"Very good." The boots moved on, and I straightened in time to see that King Peter had kind blue eyes and a light, ash blonde-colored beard on his cheeks.

Another trumpet fanfare announced the next monarch, and the herald said, "Announcing, Her Majesty Queen Susan, Queen of Narnia and Lady of Cair Paravel."

Queen Susan descended the staircase, as did her brother, her head held in a way that indicated she was, without a doubt, a very proud queen. A gown of finest cloth of gold trailed behind her, and a golden crown adorned her head of wavy brown hair. Deep blue eyes never strayed from her path, for she did not stop to greet her subjects as had King Peter. _She may be beautiful,_ I thought to myself, _but she does not seem so likable as the others._ But perhaps it was prejudice, for I had never been a very beautiful young woman, and therefore, I was not fond of those who flaunted their looks.

Yet another trumpet fanfare resonated through the hall. "Announcing, His Majesty King Edmund, King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, and knight of the Highest Order of the Lion."

Dark-haired Edmund came down the staircase and moved through the crowd as his brother and sister had before him; he did not stop to greet anyone, but his bright blue eyes flicked through the multitude and he smiled at those he knew. His dark blue tunic was less intense than the garb of his siblings, but an equally regal silver lion reared back on his chest, and a silver crown rested on his head.

However, as he neared us and we bowed, his soft-looking boots stopped in front of me. "Well met, Lady Arrania," he said.

I smiled guardedly at him. "How do you do, King Edmund?" Someone stepped on my toes, and I hastily amended, "I mean, Your Majesty."

"I am very well. I'm glad you've brought your lyre."

"Aye, my lord."

"You must play for my brothers and sisters, if it does not trouble you too greatly."

"Of course not, Your Majesty."

King Edmund grinned, then bowed again and continued to the High Table, where King Peter and Queen Susan already stood.

For the last time, the trumpets blared again, and the herald said, "Announcing, Her Majesty Queen Lucy, Queen of Narnia and Lady of Cair Paravel."

Down the staircase came Queen Lucy, dressed in a vivid purple gown. She beamed down at all her subjects, holding her head so that her silver crown caught the light, and, flipping her sheet of brown hair over her shoulder, she followed her brothers and sister to the High Table. Everyone watched the four monarchs expectantly.

"Greetings to all of you, citizens of Narnia, and friends of the Crown," King Peter said pleasantly, and his siblings took their seats. "I have called this celebration tonight in honor of a very special occasion.

"You may know that it is the custom in Narnia that a young girl is considered of age on the date of her eighteenth birthday. So it is a truly joyous occasion when a queen reaches that momentous day! Therefore, it is my great honor to announce that _tonight_ is our very own Queen Lucy's eighteenth birthday!"

He held out an arm in her direction, and the Great Hall erupted in applause; Queen Lucy blushed pink and looked at her hands.

"Now," King Peter continued, "I invite you all to join with us as we celebrate this happy event with food and drink. After we have all been refreshed by our excellent repast, I am pleased to say that the finest musicians from all corners of the known world will be providing music for us as we dance!

"And now, for the food." King Peter clapped his hands, and the feast began.

It would be unfair to try to describe all the delightful dishes that were served that night. I would never wish to cause your suffering, for everything from the stuffed peacock to the honeyed buns was mouthwatering in every way, and I could try for a hundred years to describe in words what I ate, and never do it justice. However, I must say that the wild boar (not a talking beast, of course) was particularly tasty, and the strawberry tart could cause one to never want anything else ever again.

All too soon, however, King Peter stood up again, clapped his hands, and said, "Let the ball begin!"

Several fawns whisked away the High Table to leave the four thrones exposed, and the musicians in the corner struck up a lively reel. "I should love to stay with you, daughter," Father said to me, standing up from the table, "but, as you know, the High King requires my presence. You do not mind?"

"Of course not, Papa."

"That's a good girl," he said, twitching his moustache and twinkling at me.

So I was left alone, with none but my lyre to keep me company. Across the great room, I saw Mirrana surrounded by a swarm of the nicest-looking men in Cair Paravel. My father was up on the royal dais with the High King, and there was no one else that I knew enough to go to.

It was at this moment of utter loneliness that someone approached the table where I sat. "My lady?"

It was a naiad, or water spirit, and she looked at me with her large, cerulean eyes, her elegant tunic fluttering over her purple-tinted, slightly transparent skin. "Yes?" I replied, trying very hard not to stare. Her hair itself was nothing short of a cascade of pale locks—a waterfall, if you'll excuse the pun.

"The king requests that you join him at the dais."

"Thank you, my lady." I stood up, and the naiad went to join a cluster of laughing satyrs, centaurs, spirits, and humans.

My heart pounded in my throat as I approached the dais at the front on the room, but I saw my father seated next to the High King, and I forced my mind to be at ease. "You summoned me, Your Highness?" I said, curtsying before King Peter.

"No, I did," King Edmund said with a good-humored smile. "Do not blame my poor brother."

King Peter chuckled. "It wouldn't be the first time that I've had to pick up your slack, Ed."

"I resent that. I've saved your neck many a time."

"I do not argue that fact, but—"

"Peter, Edmund," Queen Lucy said reproachfully. "Are you just going to let Lady Arrania stand there?"

"It wouldn't hurt."

_"Ed_mund!" Queen Susan said, sounding shocked.

I tried to mask my grin, but King Peter spotted it anyway. "Oh, now _look_ what you've gone and done, Ed, you've made her smile. I hope you're happy."

"I am, thank you."

"I apologize for my brothers, Lady Arrania," Queen Lucy said over King Peter's griping. "I assure you, they are not normally like this."

"Oh, yes, they are, Lu," Queen Susan said offhandedly. "Where've you been the past eighteen years?"

"Oh, you know, London, the professor's mansion, Lantern Waste, Cair Paravel…"

"Would you like to know why you're here, Lady Arrania?" Queen Susan asked.

"Yes, Your Majesty. And please, if you don't mind, I'd like for everyone to call me Arrania."

"Of course. We don't mind at all. Edmund, would you like to explain why you called Arrania here?"

King Edmund looked over at me. "Lady Arrania—ow! Susan, don't kick me like that—_Arrania,_ you are here because you promised me you'd play for Queen Lucy."

"Oh, yes."

"Here," Queen Lucy said, pulling up a chair next to her throne. "And please, if I am to call you Arrania, please call me Lucy."

"Yes, Your Highn—Lucy."

"And call me Edmund," King Edmund said. "My name's already long enough without that bloody 'king' part tacked on."

"All right."

"What are you going to play for us, Arrania?" Lucy asked.

"Well, it's called _A Time for Us _in Common Tongue It's a story more than a lullaby, really, a _beautiful_ love story about a dryad who lost the one she loved when he went on the hunt—" I blushed, as I was getting too passionate about a simple story. "But…I—I can't sing it. I can only play."

"I'll sing, daughter," Father said, coming over. "I know it well."

"Oh, do," Lucy said, her grey-blue eyes sparkling. "It would be so lovely."

So I struck the first chord, and my father began the song. At first, it was difficult keeping tempo with him, but soon after, we slipped into an easy rhythm.

_"Elandera, her eyes like sunlight glitt'ring,_

_oh she, dryad fair_

_Her arms put forth in praise unceasing,_

_like flaxen gold is her hair."_

I winced as we finished, for I had not known that Father would translate the lyrics—nor that that the Old Archenlandian would translate so dreadfully into Common Tongue! Even I, who spoke the Common Tongue from birth and knew only a little of the language of my ancestors, was disappointed at the way it sounded.

"From the beginning, Arrania," Papa muttered.

I glanced at him, but began again, and this time, he sang in Old Archenlandian, that rolling, lilting language of my people. I leaned into my lyre and allowed the music of the mountains to flow from my fingers; images of snow-capped Eriadu, heather-filled valleys, and misty, dewy mornings filled my head like sunlight fills a room. How I longed to hear the morning Gentellian lark sing outside my window again!

How I longed to see the green grass of my homeland again.

"Why, Arrania, are you all right?" Lucy asked when I finished.

I nodded and looked at my fingers, now red from plucking, only to have two fat tears splash onto them. So I jumped up from my seat, for I would not cry in front of Narnia's monarchs for all the world. "If I have your leave," I managed, dropping a curtsy and quickly leaving the dais. My chin wobbled dangerously as I quickly made my way to the door that led onto the grounds.

I shut the door behind me, and the tears I had been holding back erupted with a sob as I felt the cold wind on my cheeks. Up the nearby staircase I went, until the scrunching of snow under my feet was replaced by soft scuffing as I came onto the battlements of Cair Paravel. From this lofty place, I could see the entire land of Narnia laid low before me like a map, and all the constellations high above. But these did not concern me; for my mind was filled with the many pleasant years I'd spent in Archenland—home. The grassy dales where we picnicked many a summer's day, the mountains that guarded in times of war and sent sweet larks spiraling overhead in times of peace, and the pure springs that made the land rich. The heather that scented the air and our closets, the horses that were such a vital part of our lives, and the people. King Lune. The princes Cor and Corin. My mother. Father. Carilana. My aunts and uncles and cousins.

I felt a deep, deep ache somewhere under my breastbone, and I gave way to sobs that shook me all over and sent heavy clouds of mist rising into the air. The tears that coursed down my cheeks cooled in the wind that whipped around the many nooks and crannies in the sides of the castle, but I could not stop, or go inside.

"You know," someone said suddenly, "it is not very healthy at all to stand out in the snow."

I choked on my sob and spun around. "King Edmund! I—I di—didn't expect you to come…to come out here…"

"There, there," he said, and offered a warm-looking cloak. "Your father asked me to come and find you."

My father? Asked a _king_ to find _me_, his wayward daughter? "Oh, pray don't be angry at him, he means only the best—"

"Let me rephrase that. He expressed concern, and I _volunteered_ to find you. Please put the cloak on, I'd feel dreadfully guilty if you fell sick and died while I was supposed to be saving you."

"No, thank you. I'll be fine."

"No, I insist."

"If I go inside now, I won't need a cloak."

"But what if we aren't going inside?"

"Well, why wouldn't we?"

"My brother is making another speech."

I took the cloak.

"Would it be terribly rude if I asked you…if you were feeling all right?" King Edmund asked as I pinned the warm, woolen mantle at my throat

"No, it wouldn't."

"Are you feeling all right?"

This took some thought. My tears had dried up, and the ache that had felt so real before, now felt distant, and faint. I rested my elbows on one of the stone merlons that made up the wall and looked over onto Narnia. "Yes."

"I know how you felt, Arrania," Edmund said, leaning against a merlon as well. "Well—shall I say 'feel'? That sort of pain never really fades, does it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I am a Son of Adam," he began with a sigh. "I am not Narnian at all. I come from…a different place entirely—farther than the Lone Islands, farther than the east. I don't know if I'll ever see it again." He trailed off, and his bright blue eyes took on a distant expression.

"So you _do_ know how I feel." I turned to look at him.

"Of course I do." He looked vaguely surprised. "Did you think I was lying?"

"No, no…well, yes. I figured it was one of those things that adults pull on little ones: 'yes, yes, I know completely, even though I don't…' That sort of thing."

"You've got me all wrong, then, Arrania. I'm only…how old are you?"

"Yesterday was my nineteenth birthday."

"See? I'm only a year older than you. I wouldn't pull a condescending trick on you like that."

"Well, I know that _now_."

Edmund chuckled. "I'm glad I'm not the only one who dares to say things like this. It gets quite dull around here, otherwise, especially with Peter and Susan and Lu."

"Shall I take that as a compliment, sir, since you have those hitherto perfectly good companions?"

"You've never had siblings, I can tell."

"How?"

"Because then you'd believe that I get very sick of my brother and sisters."

"I never said I didn't believe you."

He held up his hands. "All right, all right, and you like to argue, too. Always a good thing, I guess. But I suggest we go inside again before we either freeze or get to such conflict that one of us ends up pushing the other over the battlements."

"You first."

"I'll ignore that," he said, and turned to go down the steps. "You can come with, or you can stay here and wait, and I'll come up to push you off later."

"We'll see who falls off first."

"I'm scared."

"Good." I cackled and followed him back down to the Great Hall, for my feet longed for a dance.


	4. Chapter Four

I got the dance I desired when Edmund and I returned to the Great Hall; however, can one consider four dances with one's white-haired father a time of merry-making? I think not. But he was the only one who asked for my hand, besides a blemish-riddled young boy (I think he may've been perhaps twelve or thirteen), whom I declined politely. Needless to say, I began to feel rather small and unimportant, a feeling that I was not unfamiliar with.

About a half hour after I'd met King Peter for the first time, however, Father approached me with another man lagging close behind. "Daughter, I have someone I would like you to meet."

I rose from my chair and curtsied to the gentleman who came forward. "I am very pleased to meet you, sir."

He kissed my hand, and as he raised his head, I got a good look at him. His heavily rouged, dark skin sagged down around his neck, liver spots covered his cheeks, and he hadn't washed his hair in a long time. He looked twice my age! "Eet ees _my_ pleshur, my ladee," he said. His accent was very forced, and he rolled his tongue after every word. "I am Sir _Vill_ien Rud_ol_phius…Torial."

He leered at me, showing yellowed teeth.

"I am Lady Arrania Ileana Dorovan," I replied evenly. A drop of spittle gleamed in each corner of Villien's mouth.

Father beamed at me and clapped Villien on the back. "Come now, Sir Torial, we have much to discuss…" The gentlemen went off, leaving me in a state of disgust. Father seemed to _like_ this serpentine person.

But what possibly could they need to discuss? Perhaps "Sir" Villien brought news from Archenland. Or he was an ambassador from some far land, come to confer on an alliance with Narnia. Whatever it was soon flew out of my head, however, for a familiar strain of song came from the musicians in the corner.

An Archenlandian reel!

I looked up at the four thrones and caught Edmund's eye; surely he could understand my mixed feelings of joy and sorrow at this. He grinned at me and got up from his throne. As I shifted my gaze to the floor, I noticed that not a single couple was sitting! Every single person was on the floor, except for me and two other spinsters in a corner. I was just about to go seek out my father to dance with when someone said in a low voice, " Do you know the steps to this dance?"

I looked up to see King Edmund grinning down at me. "Yes, I do."

He rolled his neck. "Well, I'm always up for a challenge. Will you teach me?"

So I put down my lyre and let him lead me out onto the floor.

"So, what do I do?" he asked once we were there.

"Well," I replied, "all these other people are doing it wrong. Put your hand here."

He put his left hand under my right elbow, and I placed my right hand on his upper arm and the left on his right shoulder. "That's it?"

"Not quite. Step forward"—I went back—"now step back"—this time I followed—"now left two steps, then right two steps. Those are the basics."

"'Basics'?"

I grinned. "Yes. The steps get more complicated, but that's really all you need to know."

"Teach me the complicated steps," he replied with a maniacal glint in his eye.

So I taught him everything I knew about the energetic Gentellian Reel: forward, backward, left two, right two, clap clap, forward, spin the lady, backward, forward, lift the lady to the left, clap clap, forward, backward, left two, right two, et cetera.

When the reel ended, Edmund and I left the floor flushed, out of breath with laughter, and with a week's worth of strange looks from everyone else. "There," I said, finding a chair and sitting with a huff, "now you can say you've danced a true Archenlandian reel."

"I can't say it was a waste of time," he replied, doing the same.

"I think I've frightened your courtiers, though, and I do apologize."

"It's not everyday they see their king clapping and spinning a young girl by the hand," he said matter-of-factly.

"I'm not young, Edmund."

"Did I say so? I do apologize."

"Oh, now you're just poking fun at me."

"I did no such thing."

"May we go back out to the battlements?"

"Why?"

"I'd really enjoy pushing you off right now."

He laughed and ran a hand through his coal-black hair, knocking his crown off into my lap.

"Oh, for me? Thank you. You're too kind."

"My crown. Not yours."

I gave it back with a mock sigh of remorse, but then, as I scanned the crowds, I noticed that my father was looking at me. He wasn't alone. That man, Villien, was smirking at me and speaking in low voices with my father. The hair along the back of my neck stood on end.

"Is anything wrong?" Edmund's voice broke into my thoughts.

"Oh, nothing."

He scratched his neck. "Bloody tunic. It itches like nothing I've ever worn."

I winced. "I'm sorry."

"Yes, Arrania. It is all your fault that my tunic is uncomfortable."

I ignored this.

"I must congratulate you," he went on. "Your lyre playing nearly sent my sisters into ecstasies."

"Thank you." A blush began rising in my cheeks.

"I could almost hear the singing larks …"

"The sigh of wind in the grass," I continued for him. "The hum of bees in the meadows, the singing of naiads in the rivers and dryads in the trees, the haunting flutes of the mountain hermits…"

He looked at me, and I shook myself out of yet another reverie. "I would very much like to visit there."

"You've been there before," I said in surprise. "Remember? You chased the Calormenes through and fought outside of our city."

"Yes, well, I'm really sorry about that," he replied with a wince. "They ran there. We didn't have a choice."

I shrugged. "Well, you brought Prince Cor back, so all is forgiven. I never blamed you in the beginning," I added hastily, for he looked rather like someone who's just been told that they've done something awful and if it weren't for something wonderful that they did, they'd be hated. Which is what, essentially, just happened.

Edmund hastily stood, and I turned to see who was coming. "Hello, Father. Hello, Sir Villien."

Sir Villien gave me an insincere simper of a smile. "Please, love, I would be delighted if you could call me Sir Torial."

Love? If the king had not been present, I would have slapped that monster across the face. "Of course, Sir _Torial_."

Father bowed deeply to King Edmund. "I must ask you to relinquish my daughter, Your Highness. It is my desire that she does not tire herself too greatly."

"Of course, Sir Willis," Edmund said. He bowed to me. "We part here, Lady Arrania. I will see you tomorrow?"

"Of course." I curtsied, and he grinned.

"Well then. Good night, sleep tight, and dream of pushing people off battlements tonight."


	5. Chapter Five

The snows of winter melted slowly away, but they gave way to brilliantly green meadows and bright blue Narnian skies. We were not confined to the castle of Cair Paravel any longer, but could now venture outside without freezing! Riding the Narnian horses (very kind creatures, they were, always having something pleasant to talk about) became one of my favorite pastimes. My favorite—can I say favorite? It's like choosing between your parents—horse, a dapple grey mare named Nanei with a voice like the sighing wind, always chattered on and on about the kings and queens—they were by far her favorite subject. I can hardly say that I disliked these long talks, myself.

One brisk day in mid March, Nanei and I were in the lush green foaling meadows to the south of the castle when the topic fell, as usual, to the High King and his brother and sisters. "I've never met the kings, myself," Nanei said matter-of-factly as we climbed a grassy knoll. "But the younger queen has ridden me once or twice, and if she's any indication of her siblings, the whole lot must be pleasant company."

"I've met King Peter a few times," I replied. "He's very nice."

"What about the middle two?"

"Queen Susan seems very aloof, but once you've met her, she's actually very kind, too."

"And King Edmund?"

I chuckled. "I've never known a more enjoyable man."

"Oh," Nanei said, "you've met him, then?"

"Oh, aye, Nanei. I see him nearly every day."

"Really? In passing, I assume."

"No, actually," I said, leaning down to peer into her chocolate brown eyes. "He comes by once in a while when he has new lyre music he'd like me to learn, and sometimes he'll come to show me some wonder of Cair Paravel that I haven't seen before. He consults me about small legal matters that come his way, or he waits for my father but talks to me instead."

Nanei twitched her ears in interest. "Is he kind?"

"Oh, aye, of course, but sometimes he's ill-tempered and can be an absolute bother. The stuffy court language really grates on him, and so he likes to speak easily with me…which leads to some irksome arguments."

"You fight with the king of _Narnia_?" Nanei shook her silvery mane.

I shrugged. "Only occasionally."

_"Occasionally?_" Nanei repeated. "That could be considered high treason!"

"Not with Edmund, Nanei. Not now, as we've grown so familiar with each other. It's like asking your very best friend not to say anything that might potentially offend you. They'd never talk to you at all!"

The grey shook her mane again and charged down the slope, splashing across the shallow stream that ran along the bottom. "Speaking of never talking to someone…what goes with Villien?"

I shuddered. "He doesn't call on me nearly as often as Edmund does, but he expects me to treat him as genially I do Edmund! And I don't think he's cleaned his teeth since Queen Lucy's birthday."

Nanei switched her tail against my leg. "Speak of the devil, madam, here he comes."

I let a single groan escape me as none other than Villien rode up on a big black horse that sweated and foamed at the bit. But then I arranged an agreeable expression on my face and asked the Lion for patience and civility.

"Greetings, Lady Arianna," he said silkily.

"And to you, Lord Vellen." I purposefully mispronounced his name, as he had mine, but Villien didn't seem to notice.

"My dear girl, _sir_, if you don't mind," he simpered.

I said nothing.

"Right, then," he said, clearing his throat. "Er…simply beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Aye."

"'Tis a shame that warmth so early in the spring spells only a harsh winter to come, and more snow later this month."

I glared at him. "Your input on the weather is not necessary here, Villien."

_"Sir_—"

"I beg your leave, if you please," I said, and wheeled Nanei around without waiting for it.

"Wait, Lady Arianna!" Villien spurred his horse to catch up with Nanei.

"Do stop with the kicking," the poor beast said in annoyance.

"Lady Arianna!" he called.

I pulled back on Nanei's reins and turned sharply. "_Ah-rah-nee-ah_, Villien. Please, if you desire to bellow my name again as you have just now, please pronounce it correctly."

His great, doughy face, once the color of a walnut, now deepened to a ruby shade. "Of course, Lady Arrania."

"What is it?"

"I was wondering," he began, but a shout of "Oyez, Arrania!" cut him off mid-sentence.

I turned to see who'd called my name, and let out my breath in a sigh of relief. Edmund, on his big chestnut gelding, came trotting over the ridge. "Hello, Edmund," I called back.

"Who is that?" Villien asked. One could almost call his tone of voice disdainful.

"That is King Edmund," I replied. "King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Para—"

"I've caught on," he interrupted impatiently.

Edmund caught up to us, Philip, his horse, very much out of breath. "I thought I'd find you here," Edmund said, running his hand through his windblown hair. He wore no crown and no lavish clothes, but he exuded regal dignity as if he were regaled in the finest extravagant coronation robes. Villien, however, reminded me of a dirty drunk beggar I once saw in the streets of King Lune's royal city, stuffed like a suckling pig into expensive clothes.

"You know me too well, Edmund," I replied.

"Unfortunately."

"I was about to say the same about you."

"I will not have you speak to a lady in that manner, young man," Villien said suddenly, shaking a finger.

Edmund looked politely surprised. "Have I offended you in any way, sir?"

_Don't bother,_ I mouthed, but it was too late. Edmund had called Villien 'sir'.

"Of course not, my lord," Villien simpered. "I was just talking to Lady Arriana about your lordship, how stately and magnificent you are…"

My mouth dropped open, but Edmund winked at me. "Did you, now," he asked, raising his eyebrows at Villien.

"Oh, yes, my king, sir. We both agree that you are kind and just beyond your years, and—"

"That is quite enough, sir. If you go on, I fear my head shall swell beyond what's wise."

"I fear it is too late for that, Edmund," I couldn't resist saying.

"Lady Arriana!" Villien said, shocked. He'd pronounced my name wrong again. "Is that how you address a king?"

"Never mind it," Edmund said dismissively. "Why don't you go back to the castle and tell Lady _Arrania's_ father that she has not run off?"

"I would be delighted, my king, sir." Villien turned his horse and galloped back over the meadow.

"Who _was_ that, anyway?" Edmund asked as soon as he was out of earshot.

"Lord Villien Torial. From Calormen, if I'm not mistaken."

"Seems like a, uh…pleasant fellow."

"Oh, I _do_ hope you're joking. I've never met a more disgusting, self-serving, pursy man. Thank you for saving me, once again."

"That's…thrice now, isn't it? You owe me."

"Owe you what?"

_"Your soul_," Edmund said in an exaggeratedly deep voice, tacking on an evil-sounding cackle.

"Take whatever you please, just don't muss my hair!"

"Oh, tell me you're not turning into one of those castle hens," Nanei said suddenly. "You have such a bright mind, it would be a pity to watch it rot and melt out your ears from all the stupidity that those girls embody."

There was a shocked silence for a minute; then, suddenly, Philip, Edmund, and I dissolved in laughter. "Don't worry, Nanei," I said. "My brain won't rot because of those silly girls. I have Edmund to do it for them!"

Nanei shot forward over the grass as I spurred her and gave her her head.

"Come back here!" Edmund shouted. "You're not allowed to get away that easily!"

But I did, because poor Philip couldn't keep up with fleet-footed Nanei. Nevertheless, how often is it that one can say they beat the king back to his own castle?


	6. Chapter Six

"Milady?"

I looked up from my lyre to see Cari come into the room. "What is it, Cari?"

"Your father is here to see you."

I set the lyre on my bed, shook my hair back from my face, and went to meet Papa, who was waiting in the sitting rooms. "Hello, Father," I said, kissing him on his wrinkled cheeks.

"Hello, daughter," he replied with a benevolent smile. "How are you today?"

"I am wonderful, Father. Edmund just gave me some more music for my lyre, and I've just started learning it. It is a beautiful song. Oh, do sit."

So he did. "That's marvelous, Arrania. You are a very accomplished young woman, and I daresay any man would give an arm to make you his wife."

"Stop the flattery, Papa. If 'any man would give an arm' to marry me, wouldn't I have been married off already? Mama was seventeen when she had me. I'm nineteen."

"But, Arrania, your mother was betrothed to me since I was fifteen and she was just born."

"What has that got to do with anything?"

"You weren't promised to anyone when you were born, so now I must make all the decisions now."

I blinked. "Decisions? What decisions?"

Father reached out and took my hands in his. "Arrania, it's time you were married."

A gasp came from someone's lips; it took me a minute to realize they were mine. "But—but Father," I stammered, "I'm not ready! I can't—I don't know anything about managing a household—who?—I don't like pain, especially childbirth pain—why now? To whom? When?"

"You've already met the man I'm considering for you," Father said soothingly. "You will not be wed to a stranger."

"But when?" I protested. "To _whom_?"

There was a knock at my door. "Tell whomever it is that I'm busy," I told Cari as she went to answer it.

"It's the king, milady."

"Let him in, Arrania," Father said gently. "This is neither the time nor the place to discuss marriage."

Edmund poked his head in. "Who's getting married?"

"No one yet," Father said, bowing. "But I hope you will consider the former for yourself, Your Majesty. There is nothing that will benefit Narnia more than heirs to the throne."

"I've considered it, thank you," Edmund said with a smile. "It has been discussed in many a committee."

"You need to _discuss _getting married?" I asked curiously.

"Well, you see, Arrania, when there are four kings and queens, problems arise as to whose heirs will inherit the thrones."

"Oh, I see. Of course."

"One could name the eldest of each monarch…"

"But once you're dead," I continued, "the children could start fighting over who would reign supreme, and the land would split into the supporters of one child or another, and soon you'd have all-out war. Or the consorts that possibly outlived you would do the same. Either way, Narnia would fall apart if you didn't plan well."

Edmund and Father stared at me for several long seconds without blinking.

"What?" I asked, feeling slightly annoyed. "Am I the only one who's bothered to read the history books in the library? That same thing's happened multiple times, even to Archenland once."

"That really put things into perspective," Edmund said, blinking rapidly. "There goes _that_ plan."

"What plan?"

"Oh, you know, have dozens of children, outlive my brother, and plant Junior on the throne."

It took me a moment to realize Edmund was joking. "Oh, ha, ha. I don't think King Peter would appreciate that, Edmund."

"He wouldn't mind, the old chap," he replied.

"Oh, hello, King Peter!" I said brightly, and waved to someone over Edmund's shoulder.

He blanched and whirled around. "Where—don't _do_ that, Arrania!"

A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep within me, and soon I had Edmund and Father chuckling as well. "I'm—I'm sorry, I really am," I gasped, wiping tears from my eyes. "I can't help it."

"Well, you deserve whatever you get for shooting my plans right out of the sky."

"I'm sorry for saving your family line from absolute obliteration. I'd undo it if I could."

"I have no doubt. You'll be the ruin of me someday, I swear, Arrania."

"I try."

"Well," said Father, who had most likely been feeling a little neglected, "I hate to interrupt this _enlightening_ conversation, but your brother King Peter, King Edmund, is calling a council in"—he consulted his watch—"five minutes. I have been asked to attend, and I'm sure you will be, too."

"Oh, I completely forgot," Edmund said, grimacing. "Thank you for reminding me, Lord Willis."

"I wish I didn't have to."

Edmund grinned and bowed deeply to me; I curtsied, too. "Have fun at your council, you two," I said as they left my chambers.

"We'll see," Edmund called back.

"Arrania," Father added, "we will continue our little…talk some other time. But be readying yourself, daughter." Readying myself for marriage.

But I wasn't ready.


	7. Chapter Seven

It was right after breakfast the next day when Father decided it was time we finish our discussion. So he called on me in my chambers, just as I was getting ready to go out with Nanei and Edmund for a ride.

"Father, please, I'd rather not talk about this just now," I said earnestly, pinning my cloak at my throat with the pin Edmund had given me. It was of pure silver, and depicted a galloping horse, as he knew how I loved to ride.

"Sit, Arrania Ileana," Father said sternly. When I hesitated, he unpinned my cloak, hung it on the wall, and forced me to sit down in a chair. "You've put this off long enough—_I've _put this off long enough. _We are going to discuss marriage, Arrania."_

"Where's Villien?" I asked, desperate to change the subject. "I haven't seen him in some time."

"He left yesterday to go back to Tashbaan on some business—won't be back for some time. And don't try to distract me, young lady, because it won't work!"

"He's Calormene?"

"Yes, he's Calormene, girl, where've you been? And I thought I told you not to sidetrack me!"

"Sorry, Father."

"What would Rill say?" Father muttered, referring to his brother, who had three perfect girls of his own—my cousins. Whenever I would rile Papa or try his patience, he would always ask why I couldn't be more like Rea, Firta and Jinna. "Ah, I'm averted again—where was I? Oh, yes, _marriage_."

"I don't want to get married," I said flatly. "At least, not to the man you've picked out."

"How do you know?" he asked. "I haven't even told you. How do you even know I've selected one yet?"

"Didn't you tell me earlier?"

"I said that I was _considering_ him, dear Arrania."

I didn't say anything, but fiddled with the ties of my gown.

"Arrania," Father sighed. "Many young women have a family by your age."

"Yes, Father, I know…"

"Your mother, bless her soul, was married to me when she was fifteen. She had you two years later

"Yes," I snapped suddenly, "and she _died_ four years after that. Is that what you want for me? Am I a—a broodmare, to be sold off for the highest bidder, to be done with in any way they please? That way of life is destructive to girls, Father."

"You'd better be grateful we don't live in the days of my grandfather, young lady," Father replied, his voice rising angrily. "You would have been married off the instant your body was ready to produce children—twelve, thirteen at the latest."

"What has that to do with anything?" I cried, getting to my feet. "That was then!"

Father stood up, too. "I can't believe that I refused to betroth you the day you were born, Arrania. I could have, but I didn't want to. It would shorten your childhood, I said. Cheapen your existence, I thought. But now I see that raising you unconventionally has led to my undoing! What will you do when you are twenty?"

"I will wait for someone that I know and care for to ask for my hand in marriage," I replied stubbornly.

"But by then, Arrania, you will be considered a _spinster_. An old maid. _Arrania couldn't find a suitable husband_, they'll say. _Has she acted loosely? Is she some sort of harlot?_ And you thought your life would be over _after_ you married! Well, I say to you that if you _don't _marry, your life and _reputation_ will be ruined forever!"

A ringing silence followed this outburst. "Are they saying that _now_?" I whispered tentatively, almost not wanting to hear the answer.

"No, thank the Lion," Father replied. He sighed, and he suddenly looked very old and feeble. "Arrania, listen to me. If you don't wed, who will take care of you when I am gone? You can't expect your uncle to take over for me for the rest of your life."

I sat back down in the chair and looked at my hands. "But what if I do not love the man I marry?"

Father knelt by my side with creaky knees. "I did not love your mother when we were married. She didn't love me. But, as the years went on, we grew to _care_ for each other, like friends. Is that not what you desire most? A friend, who will always be there? That is what you will find in a husband."

"But love…"

"Love is not applicable to this situation, darling," Father said remorsefully. "If we were less fortunate, we would live in the country and I would tend a farm, and then perhaps you would have a chance to…to catch the eye of some poor but honest farmhand, who would fall in love with you and then ask for your hand in marriage. But face reality, darling. After you were married to that farmhand, _then_ you would be a broodmare, whose purpose in life is to produce as many offspring as possible before you die. At least _here_ you will be taken care of and live in relative comfort."

"But you don't _know_ if love is inapplicable, Father," I protested.

"Do I not?" he replied. He looked at me with sorrow-filled eyes. "Arrania, when I was seventeen, I met a girl. Her name was Rhe, and she had eyes the color of the meadows in springtime. We fell deeply in love, and I intended to marry her. But one day, she fell off a horse and—and broke her neck. I was devastated—broken, ravaged inside, but thirteen years later I married your mother. I still loved Rhe, but I adored your mother. She was my closest friend. When she died, I swore that I would _never_ let your heart be broken for love."

He squeezed my hands. "Do…do you love…a man, Arrania?"

"Nay, father." I told him the truth, but I felt an uncomfortable pricking in my soul.

"I do not do this to break you, daughter, but to _protect_ you."

"I know, Father," I said, eyes filling with tears. "And I would honor your wish to my dying breath." Oh, by the Lion, how it hurt to tell him that. Deep inside me, I knew that something was breaking. "I…I will…marry whom you…you deem best. I…I trust you, Papa."

"Oh, Arrania," he said, tears spilling down his cheeks and dripping into his white beard. "Your mother would be so proud."

I forced back the tears that threatened to overflow. "Have you…chosen a man, Father?"

"I have, but I must ask for your consent."

"Who is it?"

"He may not seem very desirable on the outside, but he is generous, and has a large estate that will provide well for you and your family. His rank is high, and you would be very well-off—he has expressed his utter adoration for you, and he is quite taken with your musical talent and spirit."

"But who is it?"

"Lord Villien Torial."

The room spun, but I said nothing.

"Do you consent?"

I considered my options. Spinster-ship, or a comfortable life with a man that I couldn't stand. My rank would be elevated. But I would live in Calormen. He was wealthy. But I didn't like him much. He adored me. Wealth. Adoration. Rank. Or spinster-ship.

"I…I do, Father. I will marry Sir Villien."

Father put his arms around me and held me close for a minute, and I managed a smile. Marriage couldn't be so bad. I liked children, and if Villien had such a large estate, wouldn't it be possible to not see him at all?

"The betrothal is not set until he returns from Calormen, daughter," Father said, standing. "But I shall send word to him directly." He went towards my door, but then stopped and turned to face me. "You made the right choice, my dear. I am proud of you." He smiled, then closed my door and left me in silence.

"Lady Arrania Ileana Torial," I said, testing the name. I tried to imagine my family. "Wife of Lord Villien Rudolphus Torial. Look at their…their two beautiful sons, with their…their blue eyes and…such thick black hair…and so precious…"

As I realized that Villien had neither blue eyes nor black hair, my resolve crumbled, and I began to weep.


	8. Chapter Eight

For some reason, I could not bear to face Edmund for several days, so I avoided him at all costs. When he came to my door, I had Cari tell him that I was out. When he neared me in the corridors, I either ducked into a doorway or engaged myself in deep conversation with some passerby. But I knew that it was inevitable that one of us would happen on the other sooner or later, so I prepared myself.

For what, I had no idea. All I knew was that I had to be ready to tell him the news of my upcoming betrothal.

The opportunity came up earlier than I expected. I was practicing my lyre by the west window, and the door was partly open, so some of the cool air of the castle would freshen that of my room. In the middle of a complicated arpeggio, I noticed that someone was standing in the doorway. I nearly dropped my lyre in surprise. "Edmund! How—how long were you there?"

"Just a moment. Don't be angry, I was just coming to see you, and your door was open…"

As much as I had avoided Edmund, I had sincerely missed him, and, since I could steer clear of him no longer, I welcomed him gladly. "I was just practicing…"

"So I heard. You've really advanced, Arrania."

"Thank you, Edmund."

We stood in awkward silence for a few moments, and then Edmund cleared his throat. "Er…actually, I came by because we've gotten a score of new tomes for the library, and I thought you'd like to be the first to—to see them."

"I'd love to, Edmund!" I replied. Almost nothing delighted me more than the smell of new books, and especially in the Narnian library. One could almost taste the history in there, it was so thick. "Can we go right now? Or…or are you busy?"

"Right now's fine," he replied. "I'd much rather do this than do—war campaigns and ambassadors to work agreements out with, and—and let's not forget the wonderful threat of foreign invasion that must be dealt with—"

He must have seen the look on my face, for he said quickly, "Joking! Joking. Nothing of that sort to be dealt with today, fortunately."

I shook my head and set my lyre down. "Lead the way, my benevolent king, sir."

So we headed toward the west wing of the castle, and I began to heartily wish that I hadn't avoided Edmund when I did, for I quickly remembered how contented he made me feel when we talked.

"So," he said after a while, clearing his throat, "er…why have you…been avoiding me of late? Was it something I did?"

"Of course not," I said dismissively. "It has nothing to do with you."

"Well, Arrania, if it had nothing to do with me, why did you avoid me?"

I bit my lower lip. Edmund's bright blue eyes bored into mine, searching for answers, and I wanted to give them to him. Except, I didn't. I touched the sill of the window behind me, warm with afternoon sunshine, stalling for time to think.

"I understand if you don't want to tell me," he said finally, dropping his gaze to the floor.

"No, no," I said hastily, touching his arm. "It's not that. It's just—I'm thinking of the best way to say it. Come on, it's rather private." I led him into the library and shut the door.

The thick smell of old books surrounded us as we wove our way through the rows upon rows of bookshelves. I dearly wanted to stop and look at them, but there were more pressing matters at hand. "Can you be heard?" Edmund asked, glancing at the fauns that were perusing giant volumes. Near the entrance, a dryad ran her leafy fingers over the spines of the books in the "A" area.

"Well, it's nothing of great consequence, but I'd rather wait to tell everyone else."

He gave me a curious look, but pulled me down the "X" row. "No one comes over here—all the books are by some mad old bat named Xyrochesius who liked to dismember different creatures and describe what their various parts tasted like."

"Thank you, Edmund, I'm…fascinated."

"See? A volume dedicated to each creature—aardvarks, bears, centaurs, dryads, elephants, faeries, fauns, galliwasps, horses, humans—"

"That's quite enough—I wasn't really fascinated, you know."

"Blast. For a moment, I was hoping you were becoming a macabre necro-maniac. But now I see you're just normal."

I shook my head. "Edmund, I'm—I'm trying to be serious."

He instantly lost his silly grin. "Of course, Arrania. What is it?"

I took a deep breath and peered up into his warm, honest face. _Should I tell him?_

_Of course, you dolt._

_But…_

_How else is he going to find out? When he receives the invitation to your wedding?_

I watched his blue eyes, bright with the sun that streamed in through the window, looking for some clue as to how to go about saying what I needed to say. Then it hit me:

_Why am I so worried about how he'll take it? We're just friends._

"Edmund, I'm getting married."

I wished I'd thought it over better as soon as the declaration popped out of my mouth, but it was too late. Edmund's face turned an odd pinkish color under his freckles, and his mouth narrowed to a thin line. "To whom?" he asked finally.

"It's not official yet, Ed," I said quickly. "I—I'm not even betrothed to him yet—he's away on business. I just…told my father that I'd agree to his courtship."

"But to _whom_?" Edmund asked again.

"Lord…Villien Torial."

He raised an eyebrow at me.

"I jest not," I protested. "When V—Villien returns from Calormen, he will ask for my hand in marriage, and I—I am…obligated to accept him."

Ed managed a small grin. "Are…are you looking forward to your marriage?"

"I'm apprehensive," I admitted.

"Are you—excited to be married to…him?"

I shrugged. "I…suppose. I was not expecting to—to be wed to _him_, of all people, but he—he will provide well for me and—our…family."

Edmund gave a small laugh.

"What?" I asked.

"It's nothing," he said with a bitter smile. "I…it's just that now _I'm_ wondering how to put this into words."

I looked at my hands. "Well, you'll have plenty of time to get used to the idea of my—marriage, since I'm—I'm not even betrothed to him yet, much less _married._"

He sighed, and I touched his arm. "It's not as if I'm _dying_ or anything. Why are you so upset?"

Edmund looked up at me. "I'm about to lose you."

"Ed, I'm not even _betrothed_ yet."

But Edmund swept the hair away from my face with one hand and put the other against my cheek.

And then he kissed me.


	9. Chapter Nine

When Edmund released me, I stood in shock for a moment; my arms and legs felt weak, and my heart pounded in my ears with a roar like rushing water. I opened my mouth to speak, but then thought better of it and pinched my lips together again. An awkward silence ensued.

"I'm sorry," Edmund said finally, mussing and flattening his hair.

"No, it's all right. It—it's not like you're challenging my honor—or—or committing adultery, as I—I'm not betrothed…yet…"

He chuckled sheepishly. "I suppose you're right."

I still tingled all over, but it was a good sort of tingle, like when you've just accomplished something extraordinary, and Villien had completely fled my mind. What now occupied my thoughts was _Why_?

Edmund reached up and pulled a book off the shelf. "Er…would you like to know how—jabiru wings taste? I—I've heard they're quite a delicacy in—in other countries…"

"No, no, that's quite all right."

He cleared his throat and rubbed his chin.

I took a deep breath. This was going to sound terribly foolish, but if _I_ didn't ask it, who would? "Ed…Ed, why? Why'd you—you know…"

Edmund sighed. "Isn't it obvious, Arrania? When…when we first met, I thought, 'Oh, she seems like a pleasant young woman. Maybe I'll get to know her, seeing as her father's a part of court.'"

"I thought the same," I admitted. "Only, I didn't make any _conscious_ effort to—to get to know you better; it just _happened_. But—I _am_ glad it did."

"You were the only one who didn't flatter me because I'm king, but you also didn't look down on me for being the younger brother of the High King. I felt—_feel, _actually_—_ _respected_, but in an easy way. Like when I'm with my school friends back in England."

"'England'?"

"Never mind. But—I don't know _how_ I'd keep my sanity without you."

I blinked. "Really? What about all those times you told me I was driving you crazy?"

"You did. Can't you tell?" He made a ridiculous face, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Seriously, Ed. If you don't stop, I'll"—I pulled the jabiru book out of his hands and flipped to a random page—"I'll pluck your feathers out and boil them while I make a long slit down your vertebrae and stuff it with forcemeat—the recipe is on page seventy-two—then roast you over a fire until blackened. And you will taste 'surprisingly like chicken, with undercurrents of fish and tomato'."

He raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly. "I see. Is there a recipe for Archenlandian maiden in there, too?"

"No, but I see one for self-important Narnian king."

"Careful, maid, or I'll order someone to cut your head off. Goodness knows _I _don't have the stomach for that sort of thing."

We dissolved in laughter, gaining ourselves several cross looks from the others in the library. "I think we'd better put this down before we are tainted in some way," I said, closing the book and setting it back on the shelf.

"Oh, I was _so_ hoping to read the recipe for faun fricassee—"

There was a loud clatter from the other row, and we peered around to see a small she-faun standing in a confusion of books that had apparently fallen from her arms. "F-f-faun f-f-f-fricassee?" she squeaked.

"No, no," Edmund said hastily, "I was just making a—a joke—a very _distasteful_ joke, unworthy of me and very, very wrong—I apologize immensely—here, let me help you pick those up."

He gathered the books and put them gently in the faun's arms. "I am truly sorry, ma'am."

She gulped. "It's—it's all right…" Then she realized who he was. "My lord!" she gasped, and bowed so low that she nearly dropped her books again. "If I had—had known it was you, Your Highness, I—I wouldn't have made such—such a big deal over it…"

"No," he said, straightening, "it only makes it worse that I am king. I should have known better. I implore your forgiveness."

"Granted," she said breathlessly, and looked up at him with round brown eyes.

"Then I take my leave," he said, bowing. When she'd left, he straightened and turned back to me. "I _told_ you you'd be my ruin, even though you profess to 'save my lineage'."

I shrugged. "Like I said earlier: I'd—"

"—undo it if you could." Edmund rolled his eyes. "I know."

I gave a small smile. "Sometimes I think you know me better than my own father, Ed."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Bad, of course."

He chuckled. "I could say the same about myself."

"Then I commend you for your honesty."

He looked patiently exasperated, and I smiled fondly at him. He really was, almost certainly, the best friend I ever could call my own. How I would miss him when I married Villien.

_Then_, I remembered what we'd been talking about.

"Ed, you never answered my question."

"Which one? You've asked scores of questions since December, and I'm sure nearly half of them I've forgotten to answer since then."

"Why…why did you feel the need to…er…just now?" The word 'kiss' simply refused to come out of my mouth.

Realization dawned on his face, and he turned pink again. I would have laughed, had I not felt so suddenly humorless.

"You said something about feeling respected," I prompted, "and an equal."

"But I didn't finish."

I nodded.

"Well," he sighed, running a hand through his hair and making it stand on end, "why does a…man decide to—to kiss a—a woman, usually?"

"If he's not after her money?"

"…yes."

A hot blush rose up my cheeks, and I felt my ears reddening, as well. I'd known full well _why_ he'd done it, of course, but part of me wanted to reinforce that idea. And now I had. But what to do now?

"We should probably go back," I said, instead of what I dearly wanted to say. "I need to prepare for sup."

"Of course. I apologize for delaying you."

"Don't. It was worth it."

We left the library together, and it wasn't until we had gone down the corridor that I realized—"Oh, Ed, you didn't show me the new volumes."

"Oh, that's _right_," he said, slapping his forehead. "I completely forgot."

"Well, we _were_ a little distracted…"

"There's always tomorrow, though," Ed replied. "The books haven't been put on the shelves yet—they're still in crates at the front of the library. You can preview them for me and tell me if they're any good, since I hate wasting time with deficient books."

"What are friends for?" I said, patting his arm.

He stopped and put his hand on mine. "Arrania, we shouldn't be friends anymore."

"I'm sorry—I—I didn't quite hear you—I could've sworn you said we shouldn't be friends anymore." My outwardly calm demeanor did not match the storm of feelings that whirled inside of me. I was losing him as a friend. But I was also losing something much, much more. _Why_?

He must've read my mind, for he tightened his hold on my hand. "Don't you _get_ it, Arrania?"

"What is there to get, Edmund? You don't want to be friends. So, I'll survive." To my horror, hot tears were gathering in the corners of my eyes. Just when I was starting to, maybe, possibly, have _feelings_ for him. First, he becomes my friend, then he _kisses_ me, then he decides everything's over. It hurt, deeper than I'd ever imagined. I turned away.

"Arrania," he said, and pulled me back. "You don't _understand_."

How many times was he going to rub it in? "I think I understand, Edmund. Let me go."

I tugged my hand away, but he merely grasped my shoulders and pulled me closer. "Arrania—listen to me. _I love you._"


	10. Chapter Ten

I woke rather late the next morning, but I didn't get out of bed. I couldn't bring myself to face the day. Instead, I stared blankly at the curtains that separated me from the bitter cold of reality, lost in thought.

"Arrania?" Carilana pulled the bed curtains aside and peered down at me. "Goodness, girl. Still abed?"

I nodded.

"Come on, girl, get up. I brought breakfast for you, but you have to get dressed before you can eat it. It's terribly improper to eat meals in your _night_clothes."

With a sigh, I sat up and let Cari help me dress. "Why are you so glum, Arrania?" she asked, doing up the laces of my blue gown. "You're soon to be betrothed to a rich, generous nobleman."

"But he's the wrong nobleman," I whispered.

Carilana spun me around. "What did you say?'

"Nothing?"

"I see the guilty look on your face, girl. Is Villien unsatisfactory in some way? Well, he _is_ self-serving…and overbearing…and pompous…but he _is_ rich, and he _is_ generous. You just need to learn to love him."

I sighed. "Cari, I—I…Edmund told me something yesterday…I—I don't think I can marry Villien."

"Oh, Arrania, dear," Cari said, patting my cheek. "You made your father very happy when you agreed to we Villien. He knows that Villien is not very likable or desirable, but he's known him for many years, and understands that you will be well-taken care of."

She reached out and began running a comb through my hair. "You _do_ realize that I will be your matron of honor after you are married? I will help you through the rough patches."

"I'll never get rid of you, will I?" I sighed.

"Afraid not, child. Now, hold still…this marriage is best for your entire family. You'll be a tarkheena, your children will have valuable roots in both Calormen and Archenland—a imperative trait in many ambassadors—and your entire family will have connections in Tashbaan."

"I suppose you are right…"

"Of course I am. Now, go ahead, eat your food. I won't have you wasting away."

"I'm in no danger of that, Cari, have no fear."

"Hurry, hurry, the day is growing late, and you know what happens if you don't eat breakfast on time—you're not hungry for lunch, but then you're likely to faint with hunger mid-afternoon, and you wile _me_ into fetching you some victuals, which spoil your appetite for supper, but by midnight I'm up again getting you _more_ food, but then you aren't hungry for breakfast…"

As Cari continued to rant about infinitely circling poor eating habits, I wondered if it was really such a _good_ thing she was coming with me to Calormen.

After my meal, I migrated into my sitting room to rehearse the new song I'd learned for my lyre, hoping that it would distract me from the worry of the inevitable decision that I would have to make. I attacked my music with a fresh vengeance, practicing for nearly an hour until my fingers were red and raw. But I couldn't stop, for whenever my fingers fell still, I would begin to fret. I couldn't help it! Soon I would have to make a difficult decision, one that would change my life, possibly forever.

However, it came as a welcome deviation when Cari wrenched me away from my lyre. "Come on, Arrania, it's time you got some blood flowing in those pallid cheeks of yours."

"But—" I protested.

"No, come on." She took my hand and led me out of my chambers.

"Cari, where are we going?" I asked as she pulled me down the corridor.

"Somewhere sunny," she replied. "You've spent too long pining around in those dark, stuffy rooms."

"They aren't dark, Cari. The windows let in all the sunshine."

"Well, fine. We're going somewhere where we can feel the wind on our faces."

"The battlements?" I asked hopefully.

"If you want to."

"Oh, I do."

"Well, we'll go there, then. I—" Cari stopped midsentence as two people rounded the corner ahead of us. "Why, what do you know? It's your father! But who's that he's with?"

My heart sank and landed somewhere near my feet. "It's Villien."

Father and Villien stopped still when they saw us. "Lady Arrania!" Villien exclaimed, coming toward me with his arms spread wide in a genial way. He'd finally gotten my name right.

"Good day, Lord Villien," I replied nervously.

"You don't know how glad I am to see you," Villien continued. "You've been on my mind often of late. What a pleasure it is to finally see you again!"

"The…pleasure is mine, Lord Villien," I said with difficulty.

"I am bursting with so much anticipation that I cannot contain myself," Villien went on. It seemed as if we were talking to two separate people instead of each other, our sentences were so unrelated. "The moment I got your father's message, I turned right around for Cair Paravel."

Something dark and heavy settled in the pit of my stomach.

"I just had to see you. And now, without further ado—" To my utter horror, Villien sank down to one knee and took my hand in his. "Arrania Ileana Dorovan, will you marry me?"

I hesitated, and Father gave me a pointed look.

Then, around the corner came none other than _Edmund_. He froze when he saw what was going on, but our eyes locked over Villien's head.

And in that instant, I knew what I had to do.

"I can't!" And I tore my hand out of Villien's grip.

Cari gasped and grabbed my arms. "What are you _doing, _Arrania_?" _she shrieked.

Villien wobbled precariously on his knees, knocked unsteady by the way I'd wrenched my hands free. "What—" he wheezed.

But I was looking at Edmund, who had a tentative smile on his face.

Suddenly, Villien whirled around. He gaped at Edmund for a few seconds, his doughy face red with anger, and then he began to shout. "A_ha_!" he bellowed. "So it's _you_!"

Edmund stepped closer. "Calm yourself, man. There's no need to shout."

But Villien refused to listen. "Hearken to me, Narnian _brat_. No one—_no one!—_makes a cuckold of Lord Villien Rudolphius Torial!"

"No one's making you a cuckold, Villien," Edmund snapped. "And I won't have you speaking about Arrania in that vulgar manner, either."

"How _dare_ you tell _me_ what to do!" Villien shouted, nearly apoplectic with rage.

"I believe _I_ am the king here," Edmund replied, his voice rising dangerously.

"'I am the king here'," Villien said in a mocking voice. "King? Bah! It was _you_ who purloined my bride!"

"'Purloined'? _Purloined_?" Now Edmund was shouting. "I broke _no one's _trust! Arrania's not even your _betrothed_, Villien! Didn't you hear? _She rejected you!_"

"Because of _you_!" Villien roared, spittle flying from his mouth. "Because of _you_!" Out of the blue, he leapt forward and took a swing at Edmund.

Ed ducked Villien's fist easily, but when he straightened, his eyes blazed with wrath. "How _dare_ you attempt to harm the _king_ of _Narnia_!"

"Oho," Villien said, dancing back and forth with his fists raised. "Afraid I might beat you, eh? Afraid I might win? Well, then _I challenge you to man-to-man combat!_ Swords only! _Winner gets the spoils_." Villien gave me a covetous glance.

"Agreed!" Edmund spat. "Tomorrow afternoon—two o'clock."

They stared at each other for another minute, their eyes shooting sparks, and then both of the men whirled around and stomped off in opposite directions.

Silence reigned for a full minute, and then I dropped my head into my hands. What had I _done_?


	11. Chapter Eleven

It seemed that the whole populace of Cair Paravel had packed onto the weapons field to see their king fight the Calormene challenger. The jousting stalls had been dismantled to make way for the competition, but the spectator booths had been left intact.

I was furious as everyone, from scullery boy to the High King, found places along the competition grounds. "How _dare_ they treat this like sport!" I fumed to Cari, who had found me a seat with a very good view near the royal box. "They're not playing—they want each other's blood!"

"If two such equally-endowed men were fighting over me," Cari said matter-of-factly, "I wouldn't mind it one bit."

I flushed. It _was_ terribly flattering—but someone could be killed! "Don't jest so, Cari. I'm serious."

"So am I."

There was a trumpet fanfare, and King Peter stood up. "Friends!" he shouted. Everyone fell silent. "Today, our adored King Edmund proves his manhood once again by answering the challenge of Lord Villien Torial of Calormen!"

There were hisses and boos from the crowd; no one had forgotten how the Calormenes had attempted to kill their two kings in battle just two years earlier.

"From the right, we have Edmund, King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, and knight of the Highest Order of the Lion."

A great cheer rose up from the crowd and was carried aloft by the soft April wind. I, however, pinched my lips shut with anxiety.

"From the left, we have King Edmund's challenger, Villien Torial, Tarkhan of Calormen, and Honorary Lieutenant of the Royal army."

This time, my jeers joined that of the crowds'.

Onto the field came Edmund, outfitted in shining armor and carrying a sharp sword and sturdy shield; on the other side, Villien came out clad in slightly rusty armor that looked like it was from a few centuries earlier than Edmund's. Nevertheless, his sword flashed dangerously in the sun. "We will see who wins," he sneered at Edmund.

Edmund made no answer, but the helmet he wore hid the expression on his face; I could barely make out his blue eyes glinting with a danger not unlike that of Villien's sword. The two men stared at each other with extreme dislike evident in their stances for a minute, then both made a dash to where I was sitting.

"Do I have your pledge, my lady?" Villien asked breathlessly.

I glanced at the kerchief that I was holding limply in one hand. "Er…"

Edmund flipped the grate of his helmet up and looked at me. Cari eyed me beadily, and I felt Father's eyes boring into the back of my head, so I leaned down and lightly kissed Villien's sweaty cheek, to Edmund's utter dismay. Without a word, I did the same for Edmund's freckled cheek, but this time I slipped the kerchief into his armored hand. He didn't say anything, but the corners of his blue eyes creased with a smile as the crowd cheered, supportive of my choice.

"Challengers, take your places!" King Peter called.

I sat back as the men went to opposite ends of the narrow but long fighting ground, and Father and Cari eyed me with peculiar looks on their faces. I didn't have time to ask what was the matter, for a sharp horn blast signaled the start of the match.

Edmund and Villien started toward each other, creeping like cats on the prowl, swords raised and shields held in front. There was utter silence. They circled each other, their eyes quickly inspecting the other for weaknesses or injury.

And then, Villien struck.

With a clash of metal on metal, he brought his sword down on Edmund's. Ed jumped back, unhurt, though more cautious now. The fight had really begun now. Villien feinted upwards, but Ed was ready, catching the blade with his shield and striking his own weapon on Villien's shield arm. The blade glanced off the armor, but Villien stumbled backwards, caught unawares.

Edmund had gained more ground now; Villien's age and weight were starting to hold the man back. Neither of them had drawn blood yet—I was grateful for that much.

Suddenly, Villien struck the side of Edmund's head with the butt of his sword. Edmund staggered backwards, and his helmet flew off and hit the ground several meters away. But he quickly regained his footing and continued fighting; though now his head was unprotected and vulnerable.

The ring of clashing swords echoed over and over again, to the delight of everyone watching. But neither man made any headway, and the weight of their armor began to take a toll on Edmund and Villien's strength. Their shields were scarred and chipped from the force of the blows brought on them, but they kept on fighting.

And then, suddenly, there was a cry of pain. I lurched out of my seat in time to see Villien withdraw his sword from where Edmund's breastplate gave way to chain mail, its tip stained with blood. A scream of horror escaped my lips as Ed fell to the ground. Villien advanced upon him, blade raised.

But then, I caught sight of Edmund's eyes. Those were not the eyes of a dying man.

All of a sudden, he shot to his feet and drove his own blade into Villien's shoulder. Now blood stained the clean metal of both men's armor, but they kept fighting. While Edmund had lacked before, he now attacked Villien with a ferocity that surprised me; but a glance at the High King revealed a smug, "I've-seen-this-before" look on his face. Villien began to fall back; he was wheezing and gasping for breath, and he caught many a blow for neglect to sidestep.

Then, as abruptly as he had begun the fight, Villien stumbled and fell to his knees in front of Edmund; his sword flew out of his hand and thudded to the ground a ways away. The fight was over. But who'd won was not yet apparent.

Edmund stood over Villien, his sword shining bloodily in the sun, his sweaty face ashen with pain.

"Kill him! Kill him!" the crowd chanted.

I couldn't bear to watch as Edmund raised his sword. There was a whoosh, a thud, and cheering.

"You can look!" Cari cried.

I opened my eyes to see Edmund's sword shuddering point-down in the grass on Villien's left; Villien was looking at it with wonderment all over his face, and Edmund was walking off the field.

"He's not called Edmund the Just for nothing!" Cari said, tears of something akin to joy welling in her eyes.

I gathered my skirts and got up from the bench. "Excuse me, Cari," I said, and pushed past her to leave the booth.

"Where are you going?" she asked, clutching at my arm.

"I have some business to attend to," I replied, and shook her off. I brushed past several people to get to the door, including one young maiden with dark green eyes and glossy brown hair.

"Excuse me," she snapped.

But I ignored her and shoved the door open, stepping down into the lush green grass. The flowers of late April were beginning to show their heads to the warm sunshine, but I didn't notice. All that occupied my thoughts was Edmund's ashen face. I was just about to circle around the booth to look for him when the green-eyed girl caught my shoulder with one hand.

"Excuse me," she said again. "I don't believe you apologized when you pushed past me."

"I'm sorry," I replied hastily, and turned to go again.

"Do you know who I am? I am Danikkasha Caresh, daughter of the Tisroc of Calormen's head of foreign affairs, may he live forever."

"That's…really fantastic for you," I answered, and began hurrying toward the great scarlet-and-gold royal tent.

"Wait!' Danikkasha cried, running to catch up. "Where are you going? I didn't excuse you!"

But I didn't hear her. For up ahead, I saw a familiar coal-headed figure. "Edmund!" I called, rushing to his side.

"Hullo, Arrania," he replied with a faint grin. There was a jolt in my stomach as I realized his face was just as ashen as it had been earlier. "How'd I do?"

"Brilliant, Ed, you were brilliant."

He chuckled weakly. "Thanks, Arrania. Er…who's your friend over there?"

"I am Danikkasha Caresh," Danikkasha replied quickly. "Your Majesty," she added.

Suddenly, I noticed that Edmund's face was no longer ashen, but deathly pale. "Ed, what's wrong?" I asked, bracing him with my hands against his shoulders. And then, under my left hand, I felt a pulsating dampness, and my hand came away covered in bright red blood. The vision of Villien plunging his blade into Ed's shoulder flashed through my mind.

All of a sudden, Edmund's legs buckled. "Danikkasha, help me," I cried.

She threw her arms around his other side as I struggled to keep him upright. "We need to get him to the tent," I said, slinging an arm around his waist and hooking his arm around my shoulders.

"I'll go get help," Danikkasha said, and let go. But Edmund's deadweight proved too much for me to carry alone, so she quickly supported him again.

"Help!" I shouted. "The king! The king is wounded!"

This brought several people's attention. "Go get Kelevra," a commanding dun-colored centauress told a small, red-haired young woman. To Danikkasha and me, she said, "Bring the king in here."

"Easier said than done," Danikkasha groaned as we brought Edmund toward the royal tent, trying to jolt him as little as possible.

I said nothing. Someone I cared for very deeply was wounded for my sake.

We reached the tent, and the centauress drew back the flap for us. "Here, you two," she instructed us, pointing towards a cot in the middle of the floor. We laid Edmund gently on it, but it broke my heart to see his head tilt limply to the side.

"Kelevra's here," the redhead exclaimed, bursting in through the flap. Behind her came a young woman with smooth brown hair the color of mahogany wood, carrying a small coffer and a bucket of water.

"Thank you, Stelli," the centauress said.

"What's happened?" Kelevra said, setting the bucket down with a splash. "Oria, tell me everything."

"Ask these two," the centauress replied. "They were the ones that raised the alarm."

Kelevra turned to us.

"The king's bleeding from the shoulder," I said quickly. "He passed out just a moment ago."

"Strip him to the waist," Kelevra said in a commanding voice. "Stelli, go and fetch Orius the centaur. When you've finished that, bring word to the other king and queens."

"Yes, ma'am."

The three of us then began to remove Ed's armor while Oria opened Kelevra's chest and took a selection of dried herbs and tossed them into the bucket.

"How much medical knowledge do you have?" Kelevra asked us, removing Ed's mail coif with a practiced hand.

"None at all," Danikkasha and I said in unison.

"It'll have to do. I am Kelevra, by the way. Kelevra Gearnev."

"Danikkasha Caresh."

"Arrania Dorovan."

"Arrania, help me remove the king's surcoat," Kelevra replied, unbuckling Edmund's sword belt. Together, we lifted off the bloodstained dark blue surcoat to reveal more bloody chain mail. We pulled that off, as well, then a blood-soaked linen tunic, exposing Edmund's bare but blood-spattered chest. A deep, gaping wound a few inches below his shoulder was still bleeding heavily.

Oria swept down with a wet rag and began quickly dabbing the area around the wound. But she couldn't bend past the waist, so her job was rather poorly done.

"Let me," I said quickly, taking the cloth from her. I drew a deep breath and rinsed the dried blood off his skin, then set to the gruesome task of washing the blood from the gash on his shoulder. Even as I removed it, the blood kept coming, and soon I could do nothing but put the now-bloody cloth on it and press.

"Where is that girl?" Oria ranted, pacing back and forth. "_I_ could've gotten Father quicker!"

Just then, the tent flap was flung aside, and in strode the High King and the two queens. "Oh, Ed!" Lucy cried, and flung herself next to the cot.

"How is he doing?" King Peter asked.

"Not well, your Highness," Kelevra replied. "He lost a lot of blood. See? Everything he wore is stained with it."

My heart began pounding in my ears. Not well? I looked at his face, still pale, little tendrils of black hair clinging to his forehead. These I brushed away, and was shocked at how cool his skin felt. For a moment, I felt physically sick, but then I felt a weak punch under the hand that was staunching the blood. He was still alive. But for how long—

I couldn't bear to think on it.

"Lu," Queen Susan said quickly, "your cordial!"

"It's all the way up in the treasury room, Susan!" Lucy cried. "I won't be able to get it in time."

"Lucy, please," I begged, neglecting the 'queen' part. "Please!"

Without a word, the queen nodded, jumped up, and ran out of the tent.

"Hold on, Ed," I whispered. The punching under my fingers was growing fainter, and tears rushed to my eyes.

"Don't cry, Arrania," Danikkasha said, coming around the cot to pat my shoulder. "He'll be fine."

Ed's face was now no longer pale, but white. Outside the tent, I heard wailing and shouts of "The king is wounded!" But if Ed died, I would lose not only a king, but also a friend, and even…

_Why_?

The same question that ran through my mind when Edmund told me we couldn't be friends anymore flashed in front of my eyes. _Why? Why now?_ First we were friends. Then he kissed me, then told me we couldn't be friends, then declared his love, and now, his life was draining away under my fingers. Tears coursed down my cheeks and dripped off my chin, as steadily as the blood stained the cloth.

"Where's Lucy?" King Peter said loudly. "She should be here by now!"

But the person that charged through the tent flap was not Queen Lucy, but another centaur, one with steely grey eyes and a white coat. "Where is he?" he boomed.

"Father," Oria cried. "What took you so long?"

"That _girl_ couldn't seem to locate me," the other centaur replied, motioning to Stelli. The redheaded woman blushed crimson and looked down.

"You did your best, Lady Stelli," Peter said, softening his voice. Stelli looked up at him and smiled.

"You're here now, Orius, and that's what matters," Kelevra said. "The king is bleeding steadily, and the queen hasn't returned with her cordial."

There was a crack of thunder from outside, drowning out what Orius said next. But he hurried closer and soaked another cloth in the medicated water. This he handed to me. "Don't stop the pressure, girl."

I took the cloth and replaced the bloody one with it, noting with a jolt of pure panic that Edmund's flesh was pale and cool. The weak throbbing under my fingertips continued, but I could almost feel the lifeblood soaking into the ground. "Get him warm," Kelevra said to someone, and a thick woolen cloak was placed over Edmund, leaving the wound and my hand exposed.

"Where's Lucy?" Peter thundered.

There was a weak thump under my fingertips, and I waited for the next one.

But it didn't come.

"His heart's stopped!" I cried, and then felt a very faint tremor under my fingers.

"It hasn't stopped yet," Oria said, "but he…is nearing his time."

It was like a punch to the stomach. "He's not dying," Queen Susan said, and King Peter put his arm around her shoulders.

There was another even fainter tremor, and I brushed the tendrils of black hair off his forehead. "Please, Ed," I whispered.

The tent flap was thrown back, and a sodden Queen Lucy burst in, holding a small glass bottle aloft in her hands. "I have the cordial!" she cried. "I have the cordial!"

But I didn't feel another tremor under my fingertips.

"Quickly, Lucy!" everyone shouted.

She rushed to Edmund's side and uncorked the cordial; with her tongue stuck between her teeth, she dribbled several drops of the red liquid into Ed's wound, then did the same into his mouth.

Then there was a very apprehensive silence.

* * *

_A/N:_

_Danikkasha—_for Jousting Elf With a Sabre. Sorry I couldn't keep it Danikka; I just decided to make her Calorminian.

_Oria—_for emeralddancer

_Stelli—_for EstellaB

_Kelevra—_for Kelev. Once again, sorry I had to change her name. It didn't seem Narnian enough.


	12. Chapter Twelve

We all waited with baited breath for Lucy's cordial to take effect. But while I waited, a deep, dark dread settled in the pit of my stomach, and my hand stilled on Edmund's cool forehead; a strange buzzing sound filled my ears, and I felt ready to be sick. Ed's blood covered my fingers and hands, the blood that he'd shed on my account. His _lifeblood_.

I was so distraught that I imagined Ed's eyelids fluttering. But then they fluttered again, and Kelevra and Danikkasha and Lucy gasped in unison. The wound on his shoulder began to shrink, and it soon was reduced to nothing more than a pale, puckered scar. "Ed?" I asked quickly, my voice cracking with the importance of what was going on.

Queen Susan hurried over, too. "Edmund Pevensie, you listen to me. Open your eyes, or—or I'll tell Mother!"

One bright blue eye popped open, and Ed groaned.

"Can you hear me?" Kelevra asked.

Ed groaned again, but this groan didn't sound like a hurting one.

"What is it?" Lucy whispered.

"I guess I'm not in heaven," he said in a raspy voice that made my heart leap higher than I'd ever felt before.

"What makes you say that?" Danikkasha asked.

"Because none of you would _be_ there, that's why."

All five of us gave exasperated sighs and sat back on our heels. Ed was fine.

"Welcome back, old chap!" Peter bellowed happily, jumping over and clapping Edmund on his good shoulder. "How do you feel?"

Edmund opened his other eye and blinked several times. "Decent, I guess." With a groan, he sat up and looked curiously at the scar on his shoulder. "Hm. Suppose I should've taken that Calormene more seriously."

"He's an honorary member of the Tisroc's army, Ed. What'd you expect?"

Ed shrugged and mussed his hair. "Well, it was worth it, you can't dispute _that_."

My stomach gave a funny flutter, and I blushed as he gave me a small grin. "You were brilliant out there, Ed. Except for the…wounding part."

"We all have those days, don't we," Peter said, throwing an arm around Edmund's shoulders and ruffling his brother's hair. "But you did give us a nasty scare."

"I didn't mean to, honestly…"

"You're lucky Arrania was there," Danikkasha said softly, "or you would've lain there, bleeding, for who knows how long. That's _your_ blood that's all over her, you know."

I glanced at my bloodied hands and felt slightly ill again.

"Let's get you cleaned up, girl," Oria said suddenly, helping me to my feet. I looked over my shoulder at Edmund as she pulled me out into the rain, and a pleasant smile grew on his face as he watched me. I returned the grin, and felt a little flutter somewhere in the vicinity of my heart.

"You seemed rather distressed at the king's injury," Oria said to me as we entered another tent. "And don't try to tell me you were worried just because he's the king."

I shook the rainwater out of my hair, and Oria handed me a warm linen towel. "But I _was_."

The centauress snorted sardonically and began rummaging through a wooden chest. "I think I know a lie when I see one, Arrania."

"But what if I'm _not_ lying?"

"You're lying through your teeth. Face it."

I sighed and ran the towel over my hair meditatively.

"Lora, have you seen those gowns that used to be in here?"

I turned around to see whom Oria was talking to; a young, fair-haired centauress brushed the tent flap aside and came in, shivering her golden hide to shake the water droplets off. "No, I have not, Oria. Oh—actually, I have. They're in that chest, over there."

Oria shook her glossy black hair back over her shoulder and looked through the chest that Lora had indicated, finally drawing out a pretty cloth-of-gold gown. She held it out, eyeing it up and down. "This should fit you, Arrania, since the one you're wearing is rather messy. Cenire!"

A pretty young dryad with leafy brown hair and hazel eyes came in out of the rain, the water beading up on the leaves that spouted at random intervals from her arms. "Sorry, Oria, I was just drinking."

"No harm done," Lora said pleasantly. "But we need you to help Lady Arrania wash the blood off herself."

"Of course, Lora." The dryad shook the water off her leaves and took my hand. "Come along, friend, and I'll draw water for your bath."

Cenire led me behind an embroidered partition, where a wooden tub sat; several steaming buckets of water surrounded it. These Cenire picked up and poured gently into the bath. "What did you think of the duel?" she asked softly, setting the last bucket down.

"Terrifying," I admitted. "I…know both men."

Cenire clicked her tongue and dipped a leafy finger into the water. "Perfect. Would you like some privacy?"

"Very much, thank you."

"I'll be back in fifteen minutes. The soap is there, and the towels over there."

When the dryad had dropped the partition down again, I stripped my bloody gown off and folded it before slipping into the warm water. The dried blood on my hands and lower arms lifted off my skin in red swirls, drifting lazily in the currents I created with my fingers. What did the flutters in my heart _mean_, anyway? Why had I reacted the way I did to Edmund's injury?

I reached out and picked up a bar of milky blue soap. Why had I enjoyed the looks Edmund had sent me so much?

A million _why_s and a few _when_s zipped through my mind as I scrubbed the blood off my skin with the soap. Why did I feel the way I did? Why did he fight for me? When would I see him again?

I sighed and looked at the soap in my hand; it smelled faintly of mountain heather. I turned it over in my hands, revealing the initials 'E.P.' and the royal insignia. With a start, I dropped the bar into the water with a splash. _E.P.?_ Who _else_ would have those initials?

I reached into the water and retrieved the soap; the instant it felt air again, however, it made another desperate bid for freedom, and I made quite a racket trying to keep a firm grip on it. Finally, I captured it and pulled it close to my chest.

_E.P. _

_E.P. _

_Eeep_?_ No._

_E.P._

_A.D._

_E.P._

_A.P._

A slow smile spread across my face, and I traced the letters on the soap, a strange but pleasant feeling spreading from my heart to my toes.

_I am decided._

I quickly rinsed the soap bubbles off my arms and got out of the tub; I hastily dried off and pulled the golden gown over my head. At this moment, Cenire twitched the partition aside.

"Why, Arrania, why the rush?" she asked in surprise.

"I have business to attend to," I said automatically. That excuse was becoming rather clichéd.

"Well, it can't be very pressing, since everyone's gone back to the castle for sup," Cenire said softly, picking my soiled gown up off the floor.

I stopped, feeling slightly foolish. Of course everyone had gone up for sup.

"Lora has offered to do up your hair," Cenire continued calmly. "Sup won't start for another thirty minutes or so."

"That would be very nice of her," I said, pulling a damp tendril of hair from my shoulder.

Cenire motioned for me to follow, and Lora beamed when she saw me. "Ah, a blank canvas," she said, weighing a wisp of my hair with a practiced hand. "Do sit."

I sat in the chair she motioned to, and she picked up a bone comb and worked the tangles out of my hair, chatting nonstop with Oria and Cenire. "Let's see," she said finally, putting a hand on her chin thoughtfully. "Plaits or adornments?"

"Don't be silly," Oria said, pawing the ground with one hoof. "You always do both, and have never even bothered to pretend to listen to our suggestions."

"You're right," Lora said cheerfully, lifting the sections of hair from my forehead and pulling them back. She plaited them with scarlet ribbon and placed a jeweled circlet on my brow. "Actually, no. You pull off the unpretentious look marvelously, Arrania. A _simple_ circlet for you, my dear."

"Perfect," Oria said. "Now, let's hurry, or we'll be late."

We each pulled cloaks on and put the hoods up before venturing out in the rain again. It was growing dark, and the sun was starting to set in the west, perfectly illuminating the castle of Cair Paravel, rearing proudly against the orange and pink sky. The rush of the waves from the sea filled the air with a faint salty scent, and I breathed deeply. This was one thing Narnia had that Archenland did not.

That, and someone else.

* * *

_A/N:_

_Lora_—for shadowinRW.

_Cenire_—for Thalion King's Daughter.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

We entered the castle finally, and I was relieved to hear the normal sounds of supper echoing from the Great Hall. So the king _hadn't_ died while I was away. A faun-at-arms took our cloaks and let us into the hall; a quick glance at the High Table showed a healthily flushed Edmund, and I couldn't mask a relieved grin.

"Arrania! Arrania Ileana Dorovan!"

I turned to see my father, white beard flying, hurrying towards me. "Hello, Papa."

"I was so worried about you, daughter," he exclaimed, throwing his arms around me.

I buried my face in his shoulder, glad to have some familiarity in the midst of all the turmoil. "I'm fine, Papa."

"Come, eat something," he said, bringing me over to the table where he and Cari were sitting. Carilana shoved a plate of venison into my hands and smothered it with potatoes and gravy.

Just then, it hit me that I was famished. I sat down and began eating, much to the relief of my father and chambermaid. "You had us worried sick, girl," Cari said, trying to put severity into her tone and failing miserably.

I swallowed a mouthful of potatoes. "I was caring for the king, Father, Cari. Surely you heard of the wound Villien inflicted on him. Where is he, anyway?" I asked, and resumed eating.

"Nursing his pride somewhere, I have no doubt," Father replied. "He wasn't hurt nearly as badly as King Edmund was."

I glared down at my peas. "Why did _he_ get away with nary a scratch? The _king_ nearly died, Father, I was there, holding my hand over his wound."

Cari and Father exchanged glances.

"I'm serious, you two, where _else_ would I have been?"

"Oh, nowhere," they murmured, looking down at their food.

I snorted indignantly and finished my meal, pleasantly full. As I reached for my goblet to take a drink, I noticed a pair of bright blue eyes watching me from the front. When he realized that I'd seen him, Edmund started to rise from the table, but I set the goblet down and stood up myself.

"Where are you going, Arrania?" Father asked.

I hesitated, a flimsy excuse about business on the tip of my tongue. "Er…I'm going to see the king, Papa."

Cari choked on her mulled cider. "You're _what_? Sit down, silly chicken. You're exhausted from all the excitement."

But I ignored her. I was being drawn to the High Table by something deep inside.

"Arrania, wait," Papa called.

I kept walking until I reached the platform. Old Arrania hesitated to put my foot on the first step, but I ignored her and ascended the short staircase. Edmund and King Peter hastily stood as I approached.

"Hullo, Arrania," Ed said with a grin.

I returned it gladly, looking right into his brilliantly blue eyes.

"I want to say thank you for helping my brother," King Peter said. "If you hadn't been there, who…" He trailed off and blinked, looking first at me, then at Edmund, then back again. One light eyebrow lifted towards his hairline, and the two queens looked curiously at us.

"Ed," I said weakly.

"Yes?"

A look of realization was dawning on the High King's face, so I quickly changed the subject. "How are you feeling? I mean—with your shoulder and everything."

He shrugged. "Not bad, actually. A little stiff, but…"

"That's good. I mean, not good because you're stiff, but good because you're not bad."

"Er…do you mind if I sit down?" King Peter said. "I'm rather hungry…"

"Oh, of course not, Your Highness."

"Shut up, Ed."

Edmund pushed his seat back so he could step away from the table. "Arrania?"

"Yes?" King Peter had a smug look on his face that made me nervous.

Edmund came around the table until he stood in front of me. "Sorry for…for passing out on you like that. I hope I didn't hurt you."

What I wanted to say next was lost somewhere between my brain and my mouth, and a strange buzzing sound filled my ears, drowning out all other noise. It was only Edmund and I. So suddenly I hardly knew I was doing it, I reached up and touched Ed's dear, freckled cheek. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close; I felt the firm line of his shoulders under my arms and knew that there was no one else for me.

This was the man I loved.

When he pressed his lips to mine, I forgot everything—my rank, my home, even my name. All I knew was that I never wanted this to end.

But when it did, the buzzing in my ears subsided, and I remembered where I was. In the Great Hall—in front of the High King! My father and maidservant were most likely watching, too. But I couldn't bring myself to step away from him. "Ed?" I whispered weakly.

"Yes?"

_"I love you."_

"I love you, too, Arrania."

The High King jumped up with a shout of delight. He'd heard everything! "Congratulations, old chap!" he bellowed, clapping Ed on the shoulder. I turned crimson with embarrassment.

"Peter, _please_," Ed said crossly.

"Oh, right, sorry," he said, holding up his hands and stepping away.

"Sorry about him," Ed said to me. "He has no sense of timing." He still had his arms around me.

"Arrania Ileana Dorovan!"

With a shock, we leapt apart as my father and Cari stalked toward us. "I am deeply sorry for my daughter, Your Highness," Papa said, bowing lower than I'd ever seen him before. "She is quite overwhelmed with all the tension and excitement of the day. You mustn't blame her for her actions."

"Come along, Arrania," Cari hissed, tugging on my sleeve.

"That is _quite_ unnecessary," Ed said to them, sounding slightly surprised. "You jump to unreasonable conclusions about your daughter."

"Unreasonable conclusions?" Papa echoed.

Edmund nodded. "I think she knows exactly what she's doing."

I grinned.

Father's eyes were as big as the platters the venison was being served on, and he stuck his fingers into his thick beard.

"Is there a point to all this?" Cari demanded.

Ed looked over at me and took my hand. "There is."

"Well?" King Peter said expectantly, earning himself two very indignant looks from the queens.

"Lord Dorovan," Edmund said in a loud voice, "I humbly entreat you…to grant me the great honor of your daughter's _hand in marriage_. That is," he added softly, turning to face me and squeezing my hand in his, "if she'll have me."

"You know I will, Ed," I whispered, a teary smile spreading across my face.

Cari swooned and hit the floor with a thump.

Suddenly, I was caught up in a rib-crushing bear hug. As one might imagine, I was rather shocked to see that it was the High King! "Welcome to the family, Arrania!" he boomed, crushing his brother in a similar hug. "Never thought you'd be the first, Ed, but congratulations, anyway!"

"Thanks, Peter," Ed groaned, massaging his side.

"Do you love my daughter?" my father challenged, looking with narrowed eyes up at the king.

"Of course I do, Lord Dorovan," Ed replied, sounding slightly surprised.

Papa's eyes widened, and a grin began to grow under his shaggy white moustache. Suddenly, he gave a loud cackle of delight. "Oh, my beautiful boy!" he exclaimed, seizing Ed's face and kissing him soundly on each cheek. He gave another shout of delighted laughter. "You're getting married, Arrania, do you hear that? _Married_!"

The Papa that I knew when I was young suddenly took the place of the rheumatic father I'd known for so many years. With a delighted yell, he jumped down the platform steps. "You hear that? Married! My daughter and the king! _The king's getting married!_"

This brought the attention of the entire Great Hall, and everyone turned to look at the spry old man jumping and leaping with joy between the long tables. "Married?" they murmured. "The king?"

"King Edmund's getting married—to _my_ little girl!" I heard Father shout. An jubilant shout of laughter accompanied his words, and he waved his hat around in the air.

King Peter leapt to the front of the dais, shouting merrily and without pomp, "My friends! Today is indeed a monumental day in the history of Narnia. Our good King Edmund is getting married!"

A great cheer rose up from the people gathered in the Great Hall. The talking birds took to wing, doing great spirals in the air; the wolves and dogs took up baying ("Hip, hip, hoo-hoo-hoo-ra-a-a-a-y!"); the horses and centaurs pawed the ground with their hooves; and several small creatures came to the foot of the dais to offer their congratulations.

"I—I—I'm delighted for you, King Edmund," one small white rabbit said, its thin pink ears shivering with excitement.

"Thanks, Yukira," Ed replied with a grin.

"And to you, mistress," Yukira said to me.

"Thank you, kind rabbit."

It wiggled its little pink nose at me, then turned and scurried off to the safety of its fellows.

"Oyez!"

A sharp voice drew our attention to where a small mottled hawk sat preening her feathers. "When's the wedding?" she asked, snapping her beak in our direction.

"Er…" I replied.

"You lucky girl," the hawk continued without waiting for me to answer. "That boy there is a right wonderful person—and I'm sure you'll soon find he's a regular callipygian, too."

"_Farsight_!" Ed said with shock.

The hawk shrugged, the bony tips of her wings pointing briefly toward the ceiling. "Don't worry, Your Highness. Look at how red the girl's face is."

I buried my face in my hands. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

"We have so much to do if we're going to plan a wedding!" Queen Lucy said, coming over and beaming at me.

"Don't be so pushy, Lu," Queen Susan said reproachfully. "So, Arrania…may we help you plan the wedding?"

"Of course, your Highnesses."

_"What_?" Susan cried. "You're getting married to our brother and you're still calling us Highnesses? Did you really think we were that mean?"

"Well," Edmund began, but Lucy stepped on his toes.

"I always knew it'd be you, Arrania," Susan beamed.

"So now you're going to have to learn to get along with these asylum escapees," Ed said apologetically.

"I tamed _you_, didn't I? These two shouldn't be that hard."

Edmund's eyes crinkled in the corners, and he put his arms around me again. "Have I ever told you I loved you?"

"Not nearly enough, Ed. You've missed nineteen whole years."

"Then I'll start making up for lost time. _I love you."_

"I love you, too."

* * *

_A/N: _

_Yukira_—for HockeyWitch. Sorry I changed her name a little!

_Farsight_—for Farsight020

_Go ahead, everyone. Look up the word 'callipygian.' I dare you._


	14. Chapter Fourteen

"You're getting _married_?" Mirrana shrieked.

I jumped, playing a jarring note on my lyre in my surprise. "Er…"

My friend nearly tossed aside her embroidery in her haste to come over to the chair where I was sitting. "Oh, by Tash himself! You _are_! When? To whom? Don't tell me it's that Villien beast."

I blushed bright red, for Mirrana's brother Roshatad and her maidservant Aliashna were looking curiously at me. "Mirrana, hush."

She wrenched my hand free from the lyre and inspected the ring on my finger with a practiced eye. "Honestly, Arrania, I visit home for _three months_, and I return to find you engaged! Someday I'm going to step outside for a breath of fresh air and come back in see you surrounded by dozens of your children and grandchildren!"

My cheeks were uncomfortably hot. "Really, Mirrana, it's not such a big deal."

"Big deal?" She flipped her sheet of black hair over her shoulder. "Well, tell me who you're marrying first, _then_ we'll decide if it's a big deal or not."

"Well…" I hesitated.

"Tell us now," Roshatad demanded, "or—or—we'll get it out of you somehow!"

"I don't doubt you will," I said nervously, looking at the young teenager's flashing dark eyes.

"Let us guess," said Aliashna softly. "It'll be such fun."

I sighed. "I don't have a choice, and I suppose it's better to tell you now then when you come to the wedding." I clapped a hand over my mouth.

"When is it?"

"Late June."

"Late _June_? Arrania, it's May!" Mirrana then began fuming in Calormene, much to the delight of the other two.

"I forgot to tell you, I really did," I apologized. "You would've gotten the invitation tomorrow, anyway. So—he's tall."

"And?"

"He has black hair."

"Calormene?"

"No. His heart's about as big as this room, metaphorically speaking…"

"Axerender?"

"The dwarf? No. To continue, he has a wonderful sense of humor, but he is also the most noble man I've ever met."

"Hmm…"

"His eyes are the color of the sky in summer. The freckles on his cheeks are like cinnamon's been sprinkled on them. He is kind, and just, and nearly always in a good mood."

"Fribbleweed the giant?"

"No. He can make me laugh even when I'm in a bad mood. He's valiant in battle, but has a heart of gold. He's gentle, and kind, and absolutely honest in everything he does. There's no pretension with him whatsoever, and he's very approachable."

Mirrana stretched out luxuriously on my couch with a wistful sigh. "He sounds like a simply wonderful man, Arrania."

"I don't love him for nothing," I whispered.

There was a knock at my door, and Mirrana sat up, quickly picking up her embroidery.

"Come in," I called, standing up.

I never tired of the flutter I felt whenever Edmund walked into a room, and today was no different. "Hullo, Arrania," he said with a broad grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

There was a frantic scuffle as Roshatad, Mirrana, and Aliashna hurried to bow deeply to the king of Narnia. "Good day to you, Your Highness," Mirrana said breathlessly.

"And to you, uh…"

"Your servant Mirrana," she said, still bent over in a low curtsy.

"Another one?" I asked. "Do you _really_ want to spoil him, Mirrana?"

"I'll get a big head if you're not careful," he said with a grin.

"Too late for that, but it's the thought that counts."

He made a lunge for me, but I danced out of his reach. "Oh, Ed, _you're_ the one who always upholds _honesty _around here."

He crossed his arms and growled at me. "You want honesty? Well—"

I clapped a hand over his mouth and grinned at my other guests. "Do not mind us, you three, we're just…uh…"

"Having technical difficulties," Ed finished, prying my hand from his face.

"Of course, Your Highness," Roshatad said.

Mirrana watched me with wide eyes. "Arrania! Do you know who that _is_?"

"Well, of course I do, silly. I wouldn't run up and clap my hand over a _stranger's_ mouth, now would I?"

"As a matter of fact," Mirrana began, but Aliashna cleared her throat.

"You _do_ realize he's the king, Arrania," she said softly.

"Yes."

"And?"

"And…he's tall. Kind. Just. Nearly _always_ in a good mood. Absolutely honest in anything he does. Ring any bells?"

Mirrana choked on a breath of air and fanned herself frantically with her hands. Roshatad watched her curiously, and Aliashna's eyes widened to the size of her embroidering hoops. "Married—to a king," Mirrana said weakly.

I turned pink, and Ed looked rather embarrassed. We had both agreed not to make a big deal of the engagement, but what was I supposed to say when people asked me to whom I was getting married? At least I didn't burst in, singing _I'm marrying the king of Narnia, nah nah nah_ or whatnot. That wasn't the reason I loved him, anyway.

"Save me from them," I muttered to Ed.

"Follow my lead," he replied, and put his arms around me. "How is my wittle Awannia today?" he asked, his voice dripping with overly done sentiment.

"No, no, Eddie, how aw _you_?" I replied, feeling slightly foolish.

"I'm wonderfuw because I'm wif _oo."_

"I wuv oo, Eddie."

"No, I wuv oo _more_."

"No, I wuv _oo_ more."

"We'll just be going," Roshatad said, motioning to his sister and her handmaid. "We…uh…don't want to intrude."

"Come again," I called sweetly as they made their exit.

As soon as the door shut, Ed and I dissolved into helpless laughter. "Did you see their _faces_?" he chortled.

"It was priceless!" I sighed, trying in vain to compose myself.

"That was rather tactless of you two," Cari said testily, picking up the scraps of fabric that Mirrana had left behind. "You could've asked me to get them to leave."

"Where's the fun in that?" Ed said, shrugging.

I rolled my eyes and picked up the pillows that Roshatad had thrown to the floor. "Is there something you want to talk to me about, Ed?"

"Actually, yes," he said. "May I sit?"

"No. You aren't allowed to sit in my chambers."

"Thank you," he said, sitting on one of the Narnian chairs. He ran a hand through his hair, making the cowlick that he so desperately tried to hide stand nearly straight up on the back of his head. "It's about your rank."

My hands stilled on the pillow. I had been afraid of this.

"Would you like to be queen?"

Cari began coughing uncontrollably and sagged against the west window.

"What do you mean?" I asked, turning to face him.

"Well, since I'm a king, you have the choice of being either Consort or queen."

Queen? By the lion's mane, yes! But… "There are already two queens, Ed. Your sisters."

"I know. They—Lucy, Susan, and Peter—have agreed to let you take a place beside them as queen of Narnia if you so choose."

"But then there will be _five_ monarchs."

He didn't say anything.

Queen? Or Consort?

Queen would rule Narnia, and it would put me at a level equal with the others. But Consort wouldn't have nearly as many as responsibilities.

My decision would have to wait, for Cari was staring out the window. "Come look, you two."

We went and peered out the west window. Over the grassy hills came a large band of horsemen bearing Calormene banners and pencels on the ends of their lances. There was a frantic knock at the door, and in rushed a harried-looking faun.

"Your Highness! Calormene warriors are approaching, and they demand that we fight!"

"Ready the army," Edmund said immediately, and followed the faun out the door.

Cari and I stared at each other. A long horn blast sounded from the grounds, and I looked out the window again to see a round, dirty-haired warrior in rusty armor brandishing a sharp spear. That sore loser!

I kicked off my soft palace slippers and pulled on my sturdy riding boots. I was going to talk some sense into Villien, even if it killed me.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

"Arrania, where do you think you're going?" Cari demanded as I stood up to leave.

"I've had enough of Villien, and I'm going to make him _end this nonsense_."

"But he's got an _army_!" she gasped. "Do you really think you can convince him to let it go?"

"No, but if he's so set on having me as a wife, maybe I can persuade him that what he's doing is incredibly stupid."

"I'm coming with," she said, grabbing her cloak off the hook.

"Cari—" I began.

"I wouldn't miss this for the world, child," she replied.

I sighed. "If you must, you must, mustn't you?"

So she followed me out the door and down to the grounds, where a company of Narnian knights and warriors were already gathered, outfitted in blazing scarlet and gold garments, with shining silver mail and polished leather. It seemed as if they were readying for a procession, not a fight.

"Arrania? What are you doing out here?"

I spun around to see Edmund pull his helmet off in surprise. "I've come to talk to Villien, of course. I won't have any more blood spilt on my account."

"No, no, Arrania, let's get you back inside. Perhaps you need a little rest."

"I'm not mentally confused!" I said, perhaps a little louder than I'd intended. Several people turned to look. "Why does everyone _always_ think that?"

"_Now_ you're just making generalizations," Ed admonished.

"I am _not!_" I cried. "When I told you I loved you, my father's first reaction was that I was exhausted!"

"That's just one time—"

"In many?"

He narrowed his eyes at me. "You just interrupted a king, wench."

I crossed my arms and turned my back on him. "Well, that king is being a hidebound bother, and I'm quite ready to ignore him until he repents."

There was an exasperated silence, but I set my jaw stubbornly, adding an annoyed sniff for good measure.

More silence.

"This is where you apologize," I said stiffly.

Silence.

"Any time now."

There was not a single sound behind me, so I turned around to see—no one. That wretched scoundrel had run off! "Ed?" I called over the general chaos of a battlefield camp. Everyone ignored me and went about their own business. "Edmund Pevensie, get back here!"

No answer.

I sighed and surrendered myself to my fate. "Look, Ed, I'm sorry I called you a hidebound bother. Very well, I admit it! I _am_ mentally confused! Look, I'll declare it to the world—_I'm mentally confused!_" If _that_ didn't coax him out of hiding, nothing would.

About a dozen people gave me odd looks, but no coal-headed young man leapt out at me. "Ed, I'm going to come and find you…"

So I did. I wove between the blacksmith's tent and the tents that was being readied for any wounded, through the horses that were being saddled, and behind the royal tent. He was nowhere to be found!

Suddenly, a hand covered in clammy chain mail clamped over my mouth, and my arms were wrenched so far behind my back that my eyes watered.

"Hello, my lady," Villien hissed in my ear.

I stomped down hard on his toes, but his armored boot sent my foot bouncing off with a dull clang, and he snickered in my ear. "Thought you got away, did ye? Ah, your precious _Ed_"—he sneered the name—"may've gotten the better of me in that coward's sport, but, ah, it is _my_ turn to prevail over _him_."

I tried to shout, but his hand muffled any noise that might've escaped.

"If he thinks he can take my bride from me, he—ow!"

I had thrust my elbow into his gut, and he doubled up, losing his grip on my mouth. Fiery streaks of pain prickled across my lips and up my chin, marks of Villien's rough hands. "Stand ye down, wench!" he shouted angrily.

I kicked Villien's shins with the back of my heel, causing him to lurch backwards in pain and freeing me completely from his grasp. "No, Villien, _you_ stand down!"

He lunged for me again, but I shoved him hard and he tripped. "Listen here, wench, I—"

"No, I _won't_ listen!"

He caught my wrist as I turned away and wrenched it behind my back again until I was in the same position I'd been in before. "Ye will listen, _Lady_ Arrania, and if ye don't, I'll make sure your pretty-boy Edmund never learns what became of ye. Ye hear?"

He'd completely lost any decorous suavity he had possessed before, and was slipping into the vulgar accent that many Calormenes held, dropping the rounded, dignified 'oo'. The chain mail on his hands dug into my skin, and he stepped painfully on my ankles.

With a yelp, I struggled violently against the force he was exerting on my shoulders. "Don't try to escape," he snickered. "You won't be able to."

I wrenched one arm free and brought my elbow back into his chest. With a grunt like a pig, he lost his grip on my other arm, and I spun around to face him. "You wicked, wicked man!" I hissed, anger seething in the pit of my stomach.

He made to grab me again, but then, at the sight of his red face, I completely lost my temper. It was over in an instant: I brought my hand back, doubled it up, and sent my fist smashing into Villien's piggy face.

I made to strike again, but someone grabbed both my wrists and held them back behind my head, and a sick feeling settled in my stomach. I was outnumbered.

"Arrania, what do you think you're _doing_?"

I spun around. "Edmund, that—that—contemptible…_thing _tried to take me prisoner."

Ed looked to where I was pointing. Villien, slumped on the ground, was nursing a bloody nose and groaning. "He tried to _what_?"

"He. Tried. To. Abduct me. Can I say it any clearer?"

Edmund ran a finger over the smarting spots on my cheek, and I winced. His bright blue eyes turned dark and furious, and, without a single word, he strode over to Villien, took hold of the man's surcoat, and hauled him into the air.

"How dare you touch her!" he roared, giving Villien a good shake. "I've tolerated your tasteless advances on her, your utter disregard for Narnian protocol, your shameless sycophancy, and even the fact that you nearly killed me! But this—_this _is where I draw the line!"

Villien squeaked in reply.

"This is the end, do you hear, Villien? I will not allow senseless brutality today or ever, and I will _not_ allow you to touch Arrania Dorovan in that manner _ever again_!"

"Sire, what are you doing?" Orius asked. A small group of people had gathered around, drawn by the sound of fighting. Even Fribbleweed the giant bent down to watch.

"Something I ought to have done a long time ago," Ed replied angrily, tossing Villien to the ground with a thud.

"Ed—" I began. My legs felt weak and wobbly.

"Just a moment, Arrania," he replied. "Orius, Fribbleweed?"

The centaur and the giant nodded. "What is it, your Majesty?"

Edmund pointed at Villien, dislike evident in his blazing eyes. "Arrest him."

* * *

_A/N: I forgot about the dedications for the last chapter, so here they are:_

Aliashna_—for Black Moon White Sun. Sorry, I changed her name to make it more Calorminian._

Roshatad_—for Sally. See above._


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Fribbleweed reached down and picked Villien up by the scruff of his neck. "You hurt king's lady," he rumbled, squeezing until Villien squawked. "Now you're in trouble."

"Come along, Fribbleweed," Orius said to the giant. "Sir Villien has a cell awaiting him in the dungeons."

Fribbleweed chuckled and followed Orius to the castle.

"Are you all right, Arrania?" Edmund asked, turning to me.

"Of course," I said casually. "Of course I'm all right." But I fell into his arms just the same, breathing in the faint scent of mountain heather that radiated from his tunic. The thought of Villien making me his wife made me shudder, but Ed's strong arms around me brought a smugness that no one else could bring. Hah. Villien was in jail. Jail!

"Thank you," I murmured into his shoulder, not caring that his tunic rubbed against the scratches on my cheeks.

He rested his cheek on the top of my head, and I completely forgot that people were still watching us. All I knew was the warm circle of his arms around me, and the steady thump of his heart under my ear.

This calm contentment didn't last long, for a faun dashed up and tugged at Edmund's sleeve. "Pardon me, sire," he said, "but the Calormenes are readying their attack."

Edmund stepped away from me. "Arrania, do you _really_ want to help?"

I nodded fervently. While I could not undo the damage inflicted on everyone on my account, the least I could do was assist in making it better.

"Catch up with Fribbleweed and Orius. I need you to talk to Villien."

Every fiber of my being screamed NO! but I nodded anyways, setting my jaw resolutely. "About what, Ed?"

"He needs to call off his men." A sharp horn blast echoed off the stone walls of the castle behind us. "They will not even falter unless he says they may." He dug in his pocket and pulled out a scroll. "This was originally a treaty, but if you cross out the Narnian terms of agreement, you'll be fine."

"Certainly," I said. I nodded decisively and turned on my heel to go, but Ed caught my hand. Before I could respond, he pulled me close and kissed me soundly.

"Godspeed," we said in unison when we parted. A warm blush was rising in my cheeks, but Ed squeezed my hand and then I was off.

Up the craggy hillside I ran, cursing Fribbleweed and Orius for not taking the easy way, which would have taken longer but enabled me to catch up faster. The giant and the centaur had descended into the bowels of the castle already by the time I reached the front gate; the watchmen could not let me in fast enough. As soon as the trellis was high enough, I ducked under it and clattered up the cobblestone road to the main palace, under which the dungeons were laid.

"Let me in, let me in!" I cried, hammering on the old, scarred oak door that led down into the depths of the castle.

A little slot in the door opened up, and a pair of pale blue eyes squinted nearsightedly at "me. "Sorry, miss, bu' this heres dungeon's restri'ted from t' public, see."

"I'm not the public, I'm marrying the king next month!"

"Oh, see 'ere, Bairt, t' lassie t'inks she's a-marryin' t' king!"

There was a burst of rowdy laughter from behind the door, and I kicked it. "I am, by the lion's mane, I am! Now let me in, it's urgent!"

"Listen 'ere, lass," the person said, sounding sterner now, "qui' frankly, I do'n know whether you's gettin' married to t' king or ifs you isn't, but I _do_ know tha' this here prison is _off limits._ Now run along."

"Please, King Edmund's sent me, and if I'm not admitted in, he could _die_!"

"Why, Arrania, whatever is the matter?

I whirled around to see Lucy and Susan hurrying towards me. "These two brutes won't let me into the dungeons—I need to speak to Villien, who was just arrested, so he can call off his men because they're getting ready to fight and _Edmund's down there_!"

"'Oo you callin' brutes?" one of the people behind the door said indignantly.

"Open up, please," Susan said, knocking briskly at the door.

"Says 'oo?"

"Says Queen Susan the Gentle, that's 'oo—I mean, who."

The door squeaked open, and a scraggly-bearded dwarf bowed low. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. I di'n t'ink…"

"That much is obvious," Lucy said, shooing me in.

The dungeons were cold and damp. Water dripped down the stone walls, and once onto a wall torch, causing it to sputter alarmingly. Lucy pulled it off the wall and hurried before us, our footsteps echoing oddly in the dim light.

"So—the Calormenes are attacking?" Susan asked.

I nodded. "Villien wants me as—as his…his…well, he's not happy I'm marrying Edmund, so he decided to take matters into his own hands. But the Narnians arrested him and threw him in jail just a moment ago."

"So why are we fetching him?" Lucy called.

"We're not. I just have to convince him to call off his men."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"I really have no idea."

Lucy sighed, and we followed her guttering torch down a corridor made of slick and moist stones. Most of the cells were empty, but soon we came to one that had a damp-looking mound of cloth in the corner. A closer look revealed that it was none other than Villien.

"Go away," he wailed when he saw us.

"You listen to me, Villien," I said stiffly. The welts on my cheeks smarted at the slightest thought of him. "I want you to call your men off before more innocent people are hurt."

He snorted derisively. "Bah. Yeh call yerself and that 'Ed' of yers innocent? Bah."

Lucy rattled the bars of the cell, and Villien threw his arms over his head with a shriek. "_Lu_cy," Susan said reproachfully, but Lucy just shrugged.

"Please, Villien," I said, resorting to Plan B—pleading. "You must. Please, for your own sake."

"Bah."

This time, both Lucy and Susan rattled the bars.

"You will call off your men, or your head will pay the price," I said. Plan C, brute intimidation.

"You wouldn't dare," he sneered.

I sighed. "I was afraid it'd come to this. Fine. If you agree to call off your men, you will be freed, and I will consent to…to being your—your wife."

Susan and Lucy gasped, but Villien's head snapped up. "Yeh will?" he asked hopefully.

"…Yes."

"Fine," he growled, and I felt the flush of victory on my cheeks as I pulled out the scroll. Susan, her dark blue eyes wide, handed me a charcoal pencil, and I handed it to Villien.

"Where do I need ter sign?" he asked briskly, and I slit the seal on the scroll Ed had given me and stuck it through the bars. Villien hastily scratched his name on the line, hardly taking his eyes off my face, and the instant he was through, I snatched it back and rolled it tightly. "Enjoy your freedom, Villien," I said, and motioned for the guard to unlock him.

"C'mere," he said when the cell had been opened, but I held out my hand.

"Not until you call off your men, Villien."

He glared at me, but then turned on his heel and hurried down the corridor. Susan and Lucy and I followed.

Villien ran quickly for such a corpulent man, and he was nearly to the Calormenes already when Lucy and Susan and I reached the Narnian camp. "Did you do it?" Ed asked eagerly when he saw us.

I nodded. "He's on his way right now."

There was a bugle blast, and a great cheer rose from the front lines. "The Calormenes have called off the attack, sir," said a breathless squirrel that was dashing so fast it had to backtrack in order to reach us. "They've sent up the ruby bunting, sir."

"They've laid off!" I cried.

But then another bugle blast echoed off the walls of Cair Paravel, and we went to see what the commotion was all about. Villien was attempting to get past several centaurs, a faun, two dryads, and three wood wrens. "But they said!" he was howling.

"Hold up," Edmund said, hurrying over. "What are you doing here, Villien? How'd you get out—guards!"

"No, no," Villien protested, "this was part of the agreement, see? Yeh let me go, and I call off my men."

"But what are you doing _here_?" Ed nearly snarled, a furious red color growing in his cheeks.

"Didn't she tell yeh?" Villien said in a mockingly sympathetic voice. "Oh, I guess not. Well, I'll jes' have to tell you myself, then. Yer little lady there consented to be _my_ wife."

Ed turned first white, then a mottled pink color. "Arrania? Is this true?"

I felt terribly sorry for him, but nothing was going to ruin my moment of triumph. "It is, Ed." A large, foul smile grew on Villien's face. "Let me just read the terms of agreement that Villien so wonderfully signed for me not ten minutes ago." I cleared my throat. "The undersigned henceforth dissolves all claim to the Lady Arrania Ileana Dorovan, daughter of Lord Willis Mengridarum Dorovan. The undersigned agrees to withdraw to his native land, and it is understood by the undersigned that entry into the sovereign land of Narnia guarantees his immediate loss of life. Any and all contact with the abovementioned Lady Arrania shall be considered high treason against the crowns of Narnia. Treaty established by His Majesty King Edmund I of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, and knight of the Highest Order of the Lion. Signed, Lord Villien Rudolphius Torial."

I grinned. "You see, Lord Villien, you must never to let passion drown out good sense."

Villien stared at the inked-out Narnian terms of agreement, and his face grew so red with fury, I thought he would burst. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak, but I held up my hand. "Ah-ah, Villien. Remember? Any and all contact with Lady Arrania shall be considered high treason against the crowns of Narnia."

He gaped soundlessly at me, then snorted like a bull and walked out of the camp. I never saw him again.

A mighty cheer rose from the Narnians as the Calormenes put away camp and rode away, and Ed caught me around the waist. "Clever girl!" he exclaimed, and planted such a fervent kiss on my lips that they went numb.

"I have the feeling that you're happy," I said with a grin when he relented.

"You have no idea, Arrania. You have _no_ idea."


	17. Chapter Seventeen

"I can't believe you're getting married," Carilana whispered as she pulled the long white gown out of the wardrobe in the corner.

"Neither can I," I said, laughing to myself, and stepped out of my shift. The bright June sunlight streamed in through the window and struck the white wedding dress that Cari held, making bright sparks of light dance on the walls. This was a gown fit for a queen, and I still felt awkward about actually _wearing_ such finery.

"Well, let's get you dressed, shall we?" Cari said softly, and I nodded. She held it out for me to step into.

"Lady Arrania Pevensie," she sighed, slipping the gossamer sleeves over my arms. "I still have trouble fathoming that sobriquet on you."

"You have no idea."

She did up the laces tightly in the back. "I remember when you couldn't even pronounce _your_ last name."

I knelt down and slipped my feet into my delicately embroidered white slippers. "That was—what, last week?"

Cari chuckled and began to brush out my hair. "I wouldn't be surprised if such _were_ the case, Arrania." She reached for a thin golden cord and plaited it into my hair.

"At least _my_ name's not Hulderduy, like yours," I pointed out.

She placed a sprig of Archenlandian mistflower into my hair. "Nearly done, girl, don't fidget."

"I'm not fidgeting. And don't change the subject!"

Cari placed my mother's circlet over my brow, and, all of a sudden, burst into quiet tears.

"Why, what's the matter, Cari?" I asked, springing up to go to her.

"Nothing, nothing," she sobbed, and I flung my arms around her.

"Please don't cry," I whispered. "You're going to make _me_ cry, and how'd you like it if I went to my wedding with red eyes?"

Cari sniffed heavily and wiped her nose with a handkerchief she'd procured from somewhere. "You're right, girl. Now—where were we…ah, yes, your flowers…" She took a bouquet of bright summer flowers from a vase on the windowsill, tied them together in a lace handkerchief, and put them in my hands. I smelled them deeply, and was immediately caught up in a swirl of memory—the sharp tang of dragon's tongue, a bright red bud; the soft, lazy smell of the milky blue meadow mace; wistful-smelling mistflower; and, of course, the warm, comforting smell of mountain heather.

There was a knock at the door, and I quickly swiped at my damp eyes. "Come in."

The door creaked open, and Father stepped in. "Ah, Arrania, you look beautiful."

"You too, Papa," I replied, grinning.

He held out his arms, and I hurried into them. "My little girl," he murmured. "I prayed to the Lion for so long that you would be married well."

"You can't get much better than the king of Narnia, can you?" I said with a laugh.

He cleared his throat briskly. "There, there, Arrania, the ceremony is beginning soon, and I've come to fetch you. Are you ready?"

I took a deep breath and nodded, a restless flush rising in my cheeks. "I'm nervous…"

"Of course you are, love," Cari said kindly, and took my arm. "But your Ed's a wonderful boy, and he loves you more than life itself."

"I know," I said breathlessly, "but still, it isn't every day you get married…"

Father peered out of the window. "Well, the guests are waiting, Arrania. Shall we go down?"

I nodded, and looked around my room for the last time, soaking in every last detail. After the wedding service, my belongings would be moved to the suite I'd be sharing with Edmund, and the chambers I'd come to call home would be cleaned up and made ready for the next long-term visitor. I'd truly miss these cozy little rooms, but it was for a better life that I left them.

"Come along, daughter," Papa said, and I took his arm. Together with Cari, we left my old life behind and went down to the grounds. A little ahead of us, on the cliff overlooking the Sea, a large white canopy set up over a small dais fluttered gently in the breeze. Several hundred people stood around in groups or sat on benches, and their light-hearted chattering floated lightly to me on the air with the scent of dragon's tongue and mistflower.

"There you are, child!" someone called, and a woman in green came hurrying toward me.

"Aunt Loreli?" I gasped, and the fair-haired, matronly woman sighed with joy and clasped me close.

"Ah, little Arrania," she laughed, holding me at arm's length to look me up and down. "I can't believe you're getting married! And to a king! Oh, I can hardly bear it—Rea! Firta! Jinna! Come here and greet your cousin!"

My three cousins came shyly forward. They were younger than I, but not by much, and all had thick strawberry blonde hair and green eyes. "Hello," I said.

"Hello, Arrania," Rea, the oldest said.

"Excited?" Jinna asked.

"I would be," said Firta.

I was about to reply, but there was a roll of trumpet fanfare, and the crowd quickly took their seats. I saw Peter and Susan and Lucy take the front row, and then someone with a head of black hair came up to the dais. At his side walked a huge tawny _lion_, its thick golden mane lifting and blowing in the breeze. It was huge and fierce looking, but as I watched, I realized that there was nothing to be afraid of. The lion was kind looking, with wise brown eyes and a proud mouth.

"Quickly, girls, let's sit," Aunt Loreli said to my cousins. "Good luck, Arrania!" And they took their seats, leaving me and Papa and Cari standing in the back.

"It is, beyond a doubt, a miraculous moment," the lion was saying, "when a man takes a woman to be his wife, one truly worthy of celebration! But we are not here to celebrate marriage. We are here to celebrate love, the love of a man for a woman. For is that not what marriage is?" There was a burst of appreciative applause. "So now, may I present to you, King Edmund the Just and Lady Arrania of Archenland!"

Edmund grinned bashfully as his subjects cheered, and I felt my already flushed cheeks grow warmer with pleasure.

The lion nodded to the trumpeters, and suddenly, as they played a rolling salute, I felt myself being pulled down the aisle. My heart jumped—I was actually doing this!

Papa and I reached the dais, and he squeezed my hand one last time. Then, tears glistening in his eyes, he put my hand into Edmund's, bowed once, and surrendered his claim to me. Ed smiled with his eyes and led me up the dais to where the great lion stood.

"Kneel," the lion rumbled, and together, Ed and I went down on our knees for the vows. The lion stood over us, and as his deep voice washed over me, I felt a peace I'd never felt before. All the anxiety I'd been harboring melted away, and I looked at Ed; his freckled face was glowing like I'd never seen it.

"it is not good," the lion said suddenly, and I remembered where I was, "that the man should be alone. I have made him a helpmeet. As the man Assasic took the woman Rebekara as his wife and loved her, so shall you, Edmund, take Arrania as your wife and love her. Thy wife shall be as a fruitful vine by the sides of thine house, for whosoever finds a wife finds a very good thing.

"Arrania," the lion continued in a kind voice, "who may find a virtuous woman? Her price is far above rubies. Take it upon yourself to be dutiful to your husband, for a wife has not power of her own body, but the husband; and likewise also the husband has not power of his own body, but the wife.

"So, Edmund, men ought to love their wives as their own bodies, and he that loves his wife loves himself. Do you then swear both willingly and wholeheartedly to take this woman to be your wife, to treasure and care for her, and to love her all the days of your life?"

"I do."

"Arrania," the lion said to me, and my breath caught in my throat. "Do _you_ swear both willingly and wholeheartedly to take this man to be your husband, to treasure and care for him, and to love him all the days of your life?"

"I do."

"For this reason, a man shall leave his father and his mother, and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh," said the lion, and Edmund nodded. "My son," the lion continued, "take her hand, and let her hear your troth."

Ed nodded and turned to me, catching my hands in his warm ones. "I, Edmund, take thee, Arrania, to be my wife, my partner in life, and my one true love. I will cherish our friendship and love you today, tomorrow, and forever. I will trust you and honor you. I will laugh with you and cry with you. I will love you faithfully through the best and the worst, through the difficult and the easy. What may come, I will always be there. As I have given you my hand to hold, so I give you my life to keep. I have loved you enough to fight for you, and I love you enough to compromise myself for you, and sacrifice myself if need be. No matter the length of time we may be apart, or how long the distance, I will always, always love you."

Tears leapt to my eyes at the feeling behind the words he spoke to me.

"My daughter," rumbled the lion, "let him hear _your_ troth."

I took a deep breath, and remembered the words I'd penned and memorized nary a week ago. "I, Arrania, take thee, Edmund, to be my husband, my partner in life, and my one true love. Entreat me not to leave you, or to return from following after you, for where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people, and your God my God. And where you die, I will die and there will I be buried. May the Lord do with me and more if anything but death parts you from me, for I love you enough to give you my life, my love, and my heart. I love you enough to share all of my sentiments, dreams, goals, fears, hopes, worries, and even my entire life with you. I love you more than words can say."

The lion rumbled deep in his throat, and an elderly faun with a scarlet pillow came forward. "With these rings, you do seal your troths, with a bond that may never be broken, though time cleave you apart and autumn veils the summer.

"Edmund, place the ring on Arrania's finger."

Edmund took a ring off the pillow the faun held and slid it onto my left hand. "So I give you my life to keep," he said softly, and tears threatened to spill from my eyes again.

"Arrania, place the ring on Edmund's finger."

I did the same onto his freckled hand and whispered, "I love you enough to give you my life, my love, and my heart."

"Stand, my children," the lion commanded, and together, Edmund and I got to our feet. "You have exchanged your vows and your rings. You have promised to forever love and cherish each other. You have expressed in front of everyone here that your love will endure the fiercest trials. Therefore, by the authority I hold over this country, I now declare you husband and wife. Edmund…"

"Say no more, Aslan," Ed sad with a smile, and caught me around the waist. "How does it feel to be married, Arrania?"

I brushed the cowlick off his forehead. "It feels…like I should've done this a long time ago."

Ed grinned, and I felt that familiar flutter in my stomach again. This time, however, it was a flurry of joy—of anticipation of a whole new life. I smiled, and I kissed him with a fervor I hardly knew I possessed. But there it was, and I knew this was only the beginning.

"Queen or consort?" he whispered in my ear when we parted.

"Consort," I replied confidently, and the elderly faun squinted at me.

"My lady, do you realize that becoming consort means that none of the children you may bear with my lord will have a right to the throne?"

"This is neither the time nor the place, Finehas," Edmund said reproachfully. "Arrania, consort will keep the title of queen, but have none—"

"I know, Ed," I interrupted. "But, please, look at your subjects." He looked at the dancing, cheering, and leaping people that were gathered for the wedding. "Let's celebrate with them."

"My son. My daughter."

We turned to see the lion, yes, _Aslan_, looking over at us. "Yes, Aslan?" Edmund said respectfully.

"It is time."

_Time?_ I wondered. _Time for what?_

Ed beamed, and a sharp whistle from Peter caught the crowd's attention again.

"Kneel, daughter of Eve," Aslan commanded, and I sank to my knees in front of him. _Eve? Who's Eve?_

"My daughter, you have accepted the king of Narnia into your heart, but, it is his request that you make room for one other: Narnia herself. It is your wish not to be crowned Queen of this country, a noble and respectable wish, indeed. However, you have accepted the title of Consort. With that title, you have relinquished any claim you or your children may have on the throne, but you have undeniably strengthened the trust Narnia places in her monarchs. Therefore, it is to my great satisfaction to crown you, not queen in role, but queen in title. Finehas, if you please…"

The faun tottered forward with a purple pillow, upon which rested a crown of fine and delicate silver, crafted to form graceful vines and leaves.

"Do you accept this, my daughter?" Aslan asked.

"I do, Aslan," I said breathlessly, my heart racing.

"Then, in my name, I crown you Queen of Narnia."

A mighty cheer rose up from the multitude as Edmund settled the crown onto my head.

"Rise, daughter of Eve," Aslan said, and I got to my feet, glad the long gown hid my shaking knees.

"Narnians!" Aslan roared, and Peter, Susan, and Lucy came onto the dais. "I give you King Peter the Magnificent! Queen Susan the Gentle! Queen Lucy the Valiant! King Edmund the Just! And Queen Arrania the Good!"

The trumpets blared again, and Edmund caught me up in his arms. "Good, eh? I guess Aslan's seen a part of you that I haven't, because—"

"I love you, Ed," I sighed, and kissed him. A new name, a new title, a new home…this was, indeed, the beginning of a whole different, but incredibly blessed, life.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

A brisk breeze sighed in through the open window, fluttering the drapes and stirring little wisps of dust up to float in the sunlight. Winter was coming again, but with the promise of more than just cool weather.

I shivered as the wind hit me. I wasn't ready for frost and ice, but what made me more apprehensive was the firm bump of my stomach. Hardly five months married, and already a baby on the way. It was absolutely thrilling to be a mother, but still frightening in its own strange way.

_"And the lark sings 'lalalaladee' and the flow'rs in the meadow bend their golden heads to the light of the bright and morning sun…"_

I resisted the urge to clap my hands over my ears as Cari swayed in, singing heartily. This was not the first time she'd done this, but I took it as it came. "Good afternoon, Cari. Where've you been?"

Cari sailed over and patted my cheeks. "Oh, my little mother—telling all the ladies about the child, of course."

I laughed and set down my knitting. "Cari, where were you when Ed told the court?"

"I know, I know," Cari said pleasantly, pulling the window shut a little. "But still—the thought of being a nursemaid again! Oh, it warms my heart just to think of the little one."

I smiled fondly at her. "You won't be singing the same tune when I lose my temper again, Cari."

"I should think not. The more violent the mood's changes, the easier the life of the child, is what I always say."

"Since when have you said that?" I asked in surprise. This was news to me.

"Since I read it in Brigitte's book."

"Brigitte?"

"The centauress' midwife. She has this simply wonderful book, you see…"

I ignored Cari's rambling in favor of inspecting the little stockings I'd just finished knitting. They were small enough to fit easily in my hand, but there was a strange stirring behind my navel as I looked at them.

"Oh, look at the wee socks," Cari crooned, bending over my shoulder. "Those for the babe?"

"No, Cari, I knitted them for Father. _Yes_, they're for the baby."

"What's for me?" My white-haired father poked his head around the door. "May I come in?"

I made room for him on the couch. "Well, Papa, I suppose you may have them, but I don't think they'll fit…"

Papa took the stockings from my hand. "How tiny they are," he said in awe. "I remember when _you_ were that small."

"No longer, Willis," Cari said affectionately, and Papa gave the socks back.

"Where's the boy?"

"The boy?" I asked, puzzled.

"The one with the black hair…" Father trailed off, squinting at me.

"Edmund?" I replied. "My _husband_?"

"Yes, him," Papa conceded vaguely.

"He's with Peter and Susan and Lucy, why?"

"Who are they?"

It was then that I realized something was wrong with my father. "Papa, are you feeling all right?" I asked worriedly.

"I'm fine, girl, why do you ask?"

"You didn't remember what Edmund's name was, or who the king and queens of Narnia are."

"I didn't?" he echoed in surprise. "How strange…"

The door opened again, this time bringing Edmund with it. "Oh, hello, everyone," he said, sounding slightly surprised that his wife's father and old nurse were congregated in his receiving chambers.

"Hello, Ed," I replied, standing and smoothing the wrinkles from my gown.

"Hullo, Arrania," he said with a grin. "Been knitting again?"

"Of course. I can't be expected to sit and stare out the window lost in lovesick dreams when I have such a wonderful husband and a baby on the way, can I?"

"You can be lovesick for me, can't you?"

"Yes, but it's a question of rather I _want_ to be or not."

He grinned and planted a kiss on my lips. "I know you want to be."

I pushed him gently away. "How'd the council go?"

Ed sighed. "Boring and long-winded, as usual. Will the problems with Calormen never end? It seems that ever since Susan rejected the Tisroc's son, we've had nothing but trouble."

"What's Calormen?" Father asked.

Ed turned to look at him, a glimmer of worry crossing his freckled face. "Why, Sir Dorovan, don't you remember?"

"Remember what?"

Edmund looked at me, his brows knit together. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know," I replied. "He was like this just a moment ago, too…Papa, why don't you go lay down for a while?"

"Why would I want to do that?" he asked indignantly, twitching his white moustache.

"Just do it," I said irritably. He got to his feet with a sigh, but, as he was leaving, I realized with a sick churning of my stomach that his breath rattled in his chest.

A sudden, unwelcome thought made me clutch at Ed's hand: _Will my father live to hold his grandchild?_


	19. Chapter Nineteen

When I first woke, the blustery March morning seemed no different than all the others. The worries from the day before had returned as they were wont to do, digging their cruel claws into their customary positions on my shoulders, already bowed with the heaviness of a babe soon to present itself to the world. My back ached with the pressure, my abdomen was panging uncomfortably, and I was ready to scream from frustration—I was now erduced to sleeping on my back, and my back only.

This blessed burden, however, hindered me from caring for poor Father, now confined to his bed on account of the way his mind, his bright, spry, clever mind, was failing. My papa sometimes didn't even recognize me, his only child. It broke my heart when his clouded grey eyes looked blankly at mine as if to inquire politely who I was and what I was doing in his room.

As I was pondering this and other things, Cari twitched the bed curtains aside. "Sunshine begs to be let in, yet you bury your head under the covers. Come along, girl. You mustn't miss breakfast. Lord Edmund had me let you sleep, but I really think you've had enough rest. Even for a young mother."

"Twenty, now, remember? I'm not young anymore." But I got up nevertheless, as I now needed every bit of Carilana's assistance to get dressed.

"You're still young to me, Arrania," she said, slipping a green gown over my head and loosely tying the stays in the back.

I groaned as the babe in my stomach kicked my ribs with great gusto. "Let's just go down to breakfast before I decide to go back to bed."

Cari grinned and helped me out of the chambers and down the stairs. "Slowly, now, that's a good girl."

"You make me sound like I'm a cow," I growled. "Which I'm _not_, I seem to recall."

"No cow," Cari said, and I smiled. "A heifer."

"A _what?_" I snarled.

"Heifer," she repeated. "A young female cow who's never had a calf."

"I'll not be having a calf, _ever_! By the lion's mane, this child is going to be human! Well, as close to human as he can get with _Ed_ as his father…"

"Let's not let him hear that, Arrania," Cari said reproachfully as we neared the door into the hall. The low roar of breakfasting Narnians made me feel suddenly famished.

"Ah, the boons of an expectant woman's passions," I sighed as Cari opened the door. Ed and my in-laws were already eating, but Ed jumped up when he saw me and pulled my chair out.

"What a gentleman," I said, kissing him on the cheek.

"I learned from the best," he replied with a grin.

I eased myself into my chair. "The only reason why you won't be punished for that, Ed, is because I would value the safety of my baby over causing you pain."

"I wouldn't _mind_ being punished," Ed answered with a mischievous wink, sending Susan into an uncontrollable fit of poorly muffled laughter.

"Having fun behind closed doors, you two?" she said, trying to keep a straight face.

"Not as of late, due to this additional individual," I said without thinking, gesturing to my enlarged stomach.

Susan dissolved in silent mirth.

Peter reached over her and clapped Edmund on the shoulder. "How does it feel to finally be a man?" he asked with a broad grin.

Ed only glared at him.

"What does that make _you_, then, Peter?" I asked. "I see no wedding band on your finger. How do you explain that, Lord High-and-Mighty? Hmm?"

"Young ears," he said furiously, motioning to Lucy, who had a politely blank look on her face.

"Well, it's nothing I haven't heard before," she said matter-of-factly, looking tranquilly at us all.

"It's all your fault, Edmund," Susan said. She seemed to have recovered from her fit and now only slightly resembled a tomato.

"I start it _all_, don't I?" he said darkly.

I shrugged. "You started it on our wedding night."

Susan completely lost it at this.

"You're a regular stallion, Ed!" Peter bellowed, clapping him on the shoulder again. "I don't know where you learned it, but—"

"That's quite enough," Lucy said loudly, shoving her fingers in her ears. "I'd rather my keep my brain in a solid state, thank you."

Even as I laughed, a sharp twinge of pain arced across my belly. I blinked hard against the tears of surprise. _Note to self: no merriment during meals._

"Solid state?" Susan was echoing, wiping away her tears of mirth "Where've you been the last nineteen years? I'm afraid your brain's already liquefied, Lu."

"Well, you four aren't helping any."

"It's not my fault my youngest brother is proving his manhood on and _off_ the battlefield," Peter replied with an equally roguish smirk.

"I'd stop if I were you, Peter," Ed said warningly. "Arrania's nerves can be set off at the smallest thing—you don't want to get in her way."

"He knows," I replied wisely. "He's been on the receiving end of my terrible wrath many a time."

Another sharp pain streaked up behind my navel, this time warranting an involuntary gasp. But when Edmund gave me a concerned look, I flashed the most carefree smile I could manage. "You haven't given me a good morning kiss yet, Husband."

He leaned over and planted a firm one on my lips. "Good morning, Wife."

Peter feigned gagging over his plate of toast, earning himself four very dirty looks.

Suddenly, I was seized by excruciating contractions; real tears sprung to my eyes and leaked down my cheeks. A gasp of pain escaped my mouth, though I clapped a hand over it.

This time, Ed started from his seat. "Arrania, what's wrong?"

I managed a slight smile. "Are—are you ready to be a papa, Ed? Because I don't think you have a choice anymore…"

"Carilana," he called briskly. "Up you get, Arrania. Sorry to cut breakfast so short, Peter, but—unavoidable circumstances have arisen, as you see."

"Maybe tomorrow," I gasped, gripping Edmund's arm and letting him help me up .

"I'm going to be an auntie!" Susan shrieked, completely losing her head.

"I'll call Oria," Peter said in a business-like tone, and jumped from his seat as I muffled another cry of pain.

"Let's go, girl," I heard Cari say, and two strong, able hands took my other arm. "Slow, steady breaths; that's it, easy…now follow me, unless you want to have this baby in front of all of Narnia."

I followed meekly as my heart began to race.

* * *

There was a lusty squawk, and Cari gave a joyful cry of delight. "It's a young prince, girl! My lord, you have a son!"

I sagged against the pillow and pushed a damp strand of hair out of my face. "Oh, Ed. We did it."

Cari took a linen towel and quickly scrubbed the pink-faced, squalling infant off, then wrapped him in a warm blanket and placed him in my arms. "Look at him, girl. Your own flesh and blood."

I stared in wonder at the tiny face; the baby's round blue eyes blinked upwards at me, his little nose screwed as if in deep thought. "Hello, little one," I whispered, touching his cheek, and he twisted his mouth against my finger.

Ed pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Welcome to the world, son."

The child suddenly opened his mouth and let out a mournful wail, tiny tears glistening in the corners of each bright eye. Without a second thought, I held him close to my breast and let him suckle there, a bright, hot fire glowing in my heart.

The wonder I was feeling must have been showing in my face, for Cari said softly, "It's called the maternal instincts, Arrania."

"What should we call him?" I asked Edmund.

"I've taken a fancy to the name Erimon," he replied.

"I like it," I whispered. "Erimon Pevensie."

Edmund reached out, almost tentatively, and tucked his finger into our baby's tiny hand. "Hello, Erimon."

Erimon opened both his eyes and gripped his father's finger so tightly that Ed blinked. A strong silence hung in the air, and I slipped my hand into Ed's other one. "I won't let you go," Edmund said softly. I could never be sure whether he'd meant Erimon or me.

Either way, little Erimon finally let go of his father's finger and continued nursing until his tiny eyes drooped, and he drifted off to sleep. As I watched, Ed said finally, "A prince can't go through life with only one name."

"What do you mean?"

"Middle names. What do you think of two? Willis, after your father, and Jack…after mine."

_Jack. What a strange name_. This was, however, the first time I'd ever heard Ed talk of his life before he became King Edmund the Just, but something told me not to press him any further, so I did nothing but touch his cheek. "Erimon Jack Willis Pevensie. What a wonderful name."

Ed blinked away a mist that had filled his eyes. "He'll be a wonderful boy. You just wait and see, Arrania. I'm going to teach him to play catch, and ride like the wind, and wield a sword with the strongest in Narnia. And I'll never, ever leave him—to fight in a war or—or anything else."

I hated the pain that I saw in my husband's eyes, but I could do nothing but squeeze his hand. "And _I'll _teach him to be righteous. He will learn the art of weaponry from his father, but he will also learn to be a noble, honorable, and gallant young man. This I swear."

"I swear it, also," Ed said, touching Erimon's cheek with a gentle finger. We watched our son sleep for a long minute, his chest rising and falling with the dainty breaths of an infant. How I hoped I could keep him safe and raise him to be as good a man as his father was.

"Get some rest," Edmund said finally, stroking my hair. "I daresay you've used more energy than the time I fought that Calormen."

I clutched Erimon tighter. I'd been so close to losing this all. "You're probably right, Ed. But—may I hold Erimon just a moment longer?"

Edmund smiled. "You do what you want. After all, he's your son."

_My son_. These words sighed gently through my mind as I let my eyes droop shut. _My husband and my son. My world. My life._

And I slipped into a pleasant dream.


	20. Chapter Twenty

It was a warm August afternoon when I bent over Erimon's cradle. My son was nearly five months old, and was already enchanting the court with his bright blue eyes, toothless grins, and happy gurgles. "You are a regular charmer, little one," I said, picking him as he cooed and chortled.

"I'm blushing, Arrania."

I glanced over my shoulder to see Ed leaning against the nursery's doorjamb. "Hello, Ed. Did the alliance talks go well?"

"Without a single mishap. I'm happy to say that King Cor is just like old Lune. Carrying on his father's legacy brilliantly well, I might add."

"What did I tell you?" I replied with a grin. "Archenlandians are famous for their level-headedness."

"Well, _most_ Archenlandians, anyway," he rejoined pleasantly, coming over.

Erimon waved his legs about and squealed when he saw his papa, so I placed him in Ed's arms. "Just for that, Ed, you're going to carry him to my father's for me. I figure that Erimon's old enough to cheer him up."

"How is he doing?" Ed replied, instantly losing his teasing manner. He shifted Erimon to his shoulder.

"Not well," I said quietly.

Ed put his free arm around my shoulders and squeezed. "Come along, Arrania. Erimon will do him good, I'm sure."

* * *

"Erimon? Who's Erimon?"

"He's your grandson, Papa," I replied softly. "Don't you remember?"

My father's blank look answered my question.

"Would you like to hold him?" I continued.

"I suppose, so long as he leaves Ileana's pearl necklace alone."

I handed Erimon to my father and sat on the side of the bed. Poor Father. He was so far gone that even my mother, dead for nearly sixteen years, was alive to him again.

But then, as Erimon cooed and gurgled in his arms, Father looked up at me with clear grey eyes—eyes that were not clouded with confusion or bewilderment. "Arrania, daughter, listen to me. I love you very, very much. But even that love cannot keep me in this world longer than what the Lion has decreed. Therefore, you must be strong—don't let sorrow cloud your view."

"I won't, Papa," I whispered, tears filling my eyes. Father patted my hand affectionately, and then looked at Edmund.

"Edmund," he said, still holding my hand, "I need you to be there for my daughter and grandson. Love them with all your heart and fill for them the void that sorrow will make, as long as you are able."

"Don't worry. I will, Lord Dorovan."

Father smiled, then stroked Erimon's cheek and handed the child back to me. He sank into his pillows, and the clouds covered his eyes again.

"Goodbye, Papa, I love you," I said, and he fiddled absently with his tunic.

"Don't take the necklace," he called, and I got up. He was lost to me, once again.

"Don't cry, Arrania," Edmund said softly as I shut the door behind us.

I tickled Erimon's stocking feet, not looking up.

He took the child from me and braced him against his shoulder. "I think Mama needs a story, don't you, Erimon?"

Erimon cooed and sucked his finger, peering curiously at me from over Edmund's shoulder.

"Once upon a time," Edmund began, "there was a great and powerful country, ruled by two wise kings and two compassionate queens. They were very happy for a long time, and the country was well pleased. However, the younger king began to find himself discontented. But he didn't know why."

Erimon waved his arms at me and whacked Ed's shoulder with his pudgy little hands.

"So the king tried everything he could think of: great and glorious conquests, impressive feats of arms, new and better alliances with neighboring countries, even better horses and weapons. But nothing helped. What was our poor king to do? He was wealthy in many, many ways, but penniless in matters of the heart."

"Ed," I said, my voice dripping with as much reproach as I could manage.

"Just—just let me finish," Ed replied. "I think the boy will really learn from it."

I glanced at Erimon, who was drooling happily on Ed's tunic, and shrugged.

"So anyway, the king finally learned to hide his lonesomeness, and no one was the wiser after he did. He and his fellow king and queens continued to rule their country wisely and kindly. But one day—and this is where it gets interesting, Erimon, so listen closely—he was minding his own business and walking over a sunny bridge when—out of nowhere, a girl in green sailed around the corner and promptly fell on her face at the sight of him.

"Well, this is what he first thought, but then, next moment, he realized that her beautiful harp was soaring through the air. So he caught it and helped the girl up, fully intending to give it back and send her on her way. But the way she chose her words made him look closer—she had very clever brown eyes that, though they were guarded because he was a stranger, spoke of good judgment and wisdom, but it was a spark of mischief that caught his attention. And then, the king's sister showed up, and, before he knew it, the girl was saying goodbye with a promise to come to the grand banquet the next night."

"Ed," I began, "Erimon's—"

"Ssh, Mama," Ed said, rubbing Erimon's back. The blue-eyed baby was nodding off, but Ed continued with his story—one that sounded strangely familiar. "The next night, the girl played her lyre for the king and his siblings, and it made the king very happy and sad, at the same time. But then the girl excused herself and ran off. The girl's father asked the king to make sure she was all right, so the king went out to the battlements and found the girl crying as though her heart would break. The king was very sad for her, but she soon revealed how impish she could be. The king realized that maybe she could be a great friend. And he forgot how lonely he really was.

"As the months passed, the king and the girl indeed became fast friends—so close that the king told her everything, and she him in return. But there was one thing the king didn't tell anyone—and that was how peculiar he felt whenever the girl smiled at him. Or how the sound of her name could bring him out of the deepest melancholy. Then, one day, the king knew—he loved the girl very, very much."

Erimon gave a great yawn, and I took him from Edmund's arms and cradled him in my own. "Lovely story, Ed."

"I'm not finished yet," he said cagily. "The king didn't know how to tell the girl, because he'd rather suffer alone with her as a friend than to lose her forever. One day, however, she told him that she had something important to tell him. The king decided that he would tell her _his_ big news, too. But then, she told him that she was to be betrothed to another. The king was devastated, but, before he could stop himself, he kissed her, despite the fact that she was no longer unclaimed. Even he as king could do nothing about it. But then, when the girl asked why he'd kissed her, he couldn't bring himself to make up any sort of lie. So he told her the truth, about how much he loved her. She excused herself hastily, and the king prepared himself never to see her again.

"But _then_, Erimon, he was walking by himself the next day when he came around the corner just in time to see the sick, slimy man that the girl was obligated to marry ask for her hand in marriage. The girl took a breath, then looked over the man's head and saw the king. And the way that she looked at him brought a light like a candle to the despairing depths of the king's heart. But then, when she'd refused the man, he looked over and saw the king, too. He became enraged, and threatened to kill the king. The king grew furious, and before he knew it, he had challenged the other man to a duel.

"The next day, the king put his sword on and went onto the field. The slimy man dared to ask for the girl's pledge, but she turned and gave it to the king instead. And so the two men fought. The slimy man stabbed the king, but then the king remembered the girl, and he kept fighting. Finally, he won, but the wound left him severely weakened, so our poor king walked off the field and went looking for help."

"Ed," I said softly, "Erimon's asleep. But that's a lovely story," I added with a small smile.

"I take my ideas from real life," he replied smugly.

"Which is probably the reason that Erimon's asleep," I rejoined. "Ah—don't touch, I've got the baby, remember?"

Ed scowled.

* * *

It was late at night—or perhaps early morning—when I woke suddenly from a deep slumber, hot tears dripping steadily into my ears. The soft sheets were wrapped around my legs like ghostly tentacles, and I kicked them off as quickly as I could. _What woke me?_ I wondered, wiping the tears from my temples. I gave a shuddering sigh.

Next to me, Ed stirred and rolled over, the whisper of the sheets as loud as thunder in the dark, quiet room. "Arrania? What's wrong?" he asked sleepily.

I looked over at him, his face only partially visible in the soft glow of the moonlight shining through the window. "I—I had a bad dream, is all." The empty grief that obviously had been caused by something in my dream still lingered, however, and the tears I wiped away were all too soon replaced by fresh ones.

"Well," he sighed, sitting up, too, "you're safe here—my sword's hanging on the bedpost, remember?"

I reached out and buried my face in his shoulder. "I don't think this is something even _you_ can protect me from, Ed."

He sighed again and put an arm around me. "Well, Arrania, I'll try."

Suddenly, there was a sharp rapping at the door, and the sound echoed through the dark room, sending my heart racing.

"Stay here," Ed said, and he slid out of bed and went to the door. "Who is it?"

"It's Finehas, sir," came the voice on the other side. "Please, sir, I have urgent news from the lady Carilana."

At this, I, too, leapt out of bed as Edmund opened the door. "What is it, Finehas?" I asked, hurrying to Edmund's side.

The elderly faun clutched his handkerchief in front of him and looked down at the floor. "Please, my lady, you won't be at all thankful to hear this news…"

"Do tell me," I pleaded. Something dark and heavy settled in the pit of my stomach.

"It's about your father," Finehas began, and my stomach lurched and tied itself in knots. "He…he's…he has departed this life, my lady, in his sleep. He's…dead."


	21. Chapter Twenty One

The autumn wind seemed to moan with grief as it sighed through the trees, scattering small teardrops of dew onto the crisp, leaf-strewn grass. Several acorns, shaken loose from the oaks overhead, tumbled to the ground and skittered across the broad, smooth stones that surrounded the burial mounds marking the final resting places of my beloved father and nursemaid. The morning's dewdrops covered the grass atop the mound like so many tears, half of which I was sure I'd supplied.

It had poured rain the day of my father's interment, and the stones they placed around his grave wept tears of anguish, those that I could not bring to light. The next day, bright sprigs of summer flowers had sprung up all around as signs of hope and new life, ones that I took to heart. But the damp pricked all the way to my dearest Carilana's heart, and she fell sick before a week had passed. I had held onto all the hope that the flowers had brought, but within a fortnight, she, too, had given up the world and gone to join my father. I was left, then, wracked with grief and without a father _or_ a mother, or even a woman who had cared for me as her own. Where, then, was I to turn? Edmund was my best friend and closest companion, but I had been robbed of the deep, wise love of a parent.

Just then, Erimon squirmed in my arms, and I bent down to place the little adventurer on his belly in the grass. "You won't remember him at all when you've grown up, will you, Erimon?"

The baby took a handful of October leaves and attempted to stuff them in his mouth, but I quickly brushed them out of his hands.

"I suppose not," I sighed, and scooped him into my arms. "Come along, little one, Papa's waiting."

Erimon cooed and knotted his fingers in my hair as I turned and went back to where Edmund stood with the horses. "Someday when Erimon's old enough," I said, tucking the baby back into the swathe that I'd slung around my neck, "I'm going to take him to Archenland so he can see the mound Uncle Rill raised in Father's honor."

"For now, though," Ed answered with a grin, "he'll have to content himself with the leaves here in Narnia."

I smiled and swung up onto my horse, Erimon squealing with delight. After checking my stirrups for me—I couldn't very well bend over with Erimon hanging from my neck—Edmund mounted his horse, and we moved away from the clearing.

"Where to first, Arrania?" Ed asked, nudging his horse alongside mine. "It's not even noon; we have the entire day."

"Oh, let's be efficient about it," I replied. "The Great River first, then the forest."

"All right," Ed said, and turned his horse left.

We rode at a leisurely pace, as I had Erimon to think of, and the time passed so pleasantly that I almost forgot about the grief of my losses. The trees along the riverbank had turned bright yellows and reds and oranges, and roving geese winged their way south overhead. I was content here, like I'd only felt in Archenland and with Edmund. Here, I felt as if I had both.

We lunched on the banks of a shallow ford, and I let Erimon explore as much as he was able to by inching his way along on his belly. This was a source of great entertainment for quite some time, as the boy would worm in one direction, stare at some object like a leaf or a flower, then point and gabble incomprehensibly; after which he would crawl away in search of another specimen to study.

"He's going to be a fine young man when he grows up," Edmund said proudly, watching as his son discovered the many wonders of grass.

"No different than his papa," I replied, and Ed reached over and kissed me soundly. "How far are we from Cair Paravel?" I murmured when he relented.

"About ten minutes. Why?"

"Just curious," I sighed, giving up my 'strong mother' façade and choosing instead to be held tightly in Ed's arms, as we used to do before Erimon was born.

"No, boy," Ed said suddenly, and I looked up to see Erimon inching sheepishly away from the edge of the blanket.

"I'd better put him to sleep," I sighed, and I wrapped him snugly in his blanket and cradled him close to my chest. Surprisingly, the usually strong-willed child yawned and closed his eyes. When I was sure he was asleep, I placed him in the large basket I'd brought for just such a purpose and placed another light blanket over him.

"I can't believe he listened to me," Edmund said, amazement evident in his voice.

I pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Don't get used to it, Ed."

He slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me close. "It would be nice if his mama listened to me, too."

I sighed and closed my eyes. "When pigs fly, darling."

"It might be sooner than you think, Arrania," he replied softly.

I laughed and listened to the steady thump of Ed's heart under my ear. "How would you like to be a papa twice over, Ed?" I asked, feeling my own heart flutter with the sudden remembrance.

"Is this a trick question?"

"Well, let's just say your answer won't change the actuality of it all."

He pulled away and looked at me in surprise. "Are you…?"

"Perhaps," I replied with a sly smile.

"You _are? _Tell the truth, Arrania."

"All right," I burst out enthusiastically. "I'm pregnant again!"

_"Again?_" he said, his blue eyes wide as dinner plates.

I gave him an arch look. "I didn't pull it off on my own, you know."

He blinked several times, and then a big grin grew on his face. _"Two_ children! What will Peter say to _that, _I wonder?"

"You _do_ realize that he'll call you 'a regular stallion' again…"

Ed waved an airy hand. "Who am I to thwart the assertion of truth?"

"Don't go getting a big head, there, my lord," I shot back, and rolled out of Ed's grasp.

"You're not going to get away with _that_, my lady," he cried, lurching to his feet. Recognizing the immediate danger I was in, I, too, leapt up from the ground and danced away from his grip.

"I'm trying to preserve your line, Ed," I said between bursts of laughter. "Shall you really kill me?"

"Perhaps not," he rumbled, "but if you come closer, perhaps I'll _punish_ you especially well…"

With a sly smile, I took several steps nearer.

"By pushing you off the battlements!" he finished triumphantly, catching me around the waist and making to throw me over his shoulder.

"Sire!"

We both froze guiltily as a grey-haired faun with a red scarf stepped out of the trees. "Why, friend Tumnus!" Edmund cried, dropping his hands and striding to meet the elderly faun. "What brings you to Narnia after all these years?"

"I see you've been busy while I was gone," Tumnus replied with a grin, and his eyes flitted first over me, then over Erimon slumbering away in the basket.

"Oh—Arrania, forgive me—this is my dear friend Tumnus. He was the very first person Lucy met when she—well, when she first came into Narnia. Tumnus, this is my dear wife, Queen Arrania the Good."

"How do you do, Sir Tumnus?" I said to the faun, dropping a curtsy. It still never ceased to rattle me when I was referred to as 'queen.'

"Very well, indeed, thank you. Pleasure to meet you, Queen Arrania—I've heard news of a new queen of Narnia, but never from any reliable source. Forgive me if I did not believe it at first."

"Quite understandable," I replied with a smile.

"And this is my son, Prince Erimon," Ed continued with a proud grin.

"The sole royal child and heir to your throne, young Edmund?" Tumnus asked, almost hopefully.

Ed shook his head. "Erimon has no claim to the throne of Narnia, Tumnus. Arrania chose Consort over true queen, and we are content that way. Besides," he added with a satisfied nod, "Erimon soon isn't to be the sole royal child—or offspring of mine, for that matter."

"Oho," Tumnus crowed, "another child? I've scarce left and already you have a wife, a handsome son, and another on the way!"

I couldn't help but smile.

"That does remind me," Tumnus continued. "I haven't returned to Narnia for the sake of old times. Well—that is a most wonderful perquisite, but the reason I've come from the Western Wood is to say that none other than _the White Stag_ has taken up there, at least for the autumn."

Ed's jaw dropped, and I half-expected him to jump up and down with delight. But all he did was shake Tumnus' hand quite briskly and say, "You have my thanks, old boy." Then he turned to me. "Arrania, shall we go back?"

I smiled fondly at him. "I know you want to find that Stag, and of course you have my blessing. Ride with all haste back to Cair Paravel, and get ready. I'll come behind."

"Thank you, love," he said with a broad grin. He kissed me firmly, then mounted his horse and spurred it east, back to the castle.

"Edmund is a good man," Tumnus said. "Here, my lady, let me help you."

Together we packed up the picnic things, and I let the faun hold Erimon for a moment before I placed him in his swathe. I rode slowly back to Cair Paravel, and Tumnus (whom I was very much beginning to like) walked along beside.

When we arrived, I handed my horse off to a stable boy just as Peter, Susan, Edmund, Lucy, and several noblemen came bustling around the corner with their steeds. "Hullo, Arrania," Peter bellowed when he saw me. "And old Tumnus! Now _there's _a sight for sore eyes!"

"Many glad tidings, Your Majesties," Tumnus replied with like enthusiasm. "Are you all off to find the White Stag?"

"I daresay we are!" Lucy cried. "And I am _so_ very pleased! Oh, Arrania—aren't you coming, too?"

I dearly wished I could. I'd only been hunting twice or thrice, but the thrill was almost unmatchable—but, alas, I had Erimon to think of. "No, Lucy, I shan't. I shouldn't want to slow you up. Your nephew still needs me, besides."

Ed handed his horse's reins to Peter. "I wish you would come, Arrania," he said, tilting his head in the way he knew I found irresistible.

I hesitated. But I knew it wasn't right for me to go. "I can't, Ed. I'll stay here and make sure your throne doesn't get cold, though."

He sighed and hugged me. "All right, then. I'll be back before sundown, so don't get too comfortable. Don't forget, Lord Soresin is regent, so if anything should happen to us—"

"_Nothing_ will happen, Ed," I replied firmly. "So kiss me and begone, before the Stag eludes you once again."

He grinned and kissed me firmly, brushed Erimon's head with his lips, and saddled up. "Goodbye, Arrania. I'll be back before long."

"Let's get a move on, fair friends," Peter bellowed joyfully, and Ed blew such a blast on his hunting horn that the hounds began baying in excitement. Without further ado, the whole party set off.

"I love you, Ed," I called after them.

"I love you, too," he replied. They exited the palace gates then, and I watched them until they were lost to my sight. Then I turned and went inside.

* * *

Sundown came and went, and the party did not return. I put Erimon to bed, a dark sense of dread settling in my stomach, and went to sit by the western window, scanning the steadily darkening horizon for some sign of my husband.

Finally, I saw dark shapes emerging from the trees across from Cair Paravel; my heart leaped with relief, and I slipped down to the entrance hall just as the scratched and dirt-streaked hunting party came in through the great doors. I made to rush forward and demand why Edmund had worried me so, but I stopped suddenly at the looks on the lords' faces.

"What's the matter?" I asked, my stomach knotting and lurching in turn. And then I realized—four very obvious people were missing.

"Where are they?" I cried as the lords clustered in front of me. "Where are Edmund and Peter and Lucy and Susan?"

"My lady," said one of the lords, a Sir Ulvilas. "We…we have some…disturbing news."

"What have you done with them?" I snarled, and one of the guards put a warning hand on my arm.

"My lady, we have done nothing with the kings and queens," Ulvilas cried. "You must hear us out!"

"Tell me," I whispered.

"We were hot on the trail of the White Stag, Your Majesty," Ulvilas began, "but our steeds became tired, and Their Majesties quickly outrode us. Before we knew it, they were far ahead. So we pressed on, and we were ready to call for them when we came across—across their mounts tethered to a tree. The hounds followed their trail into a thicket where a great iron tree rose from the very soil—a flickering lantern was set atop it, actually. But then the hounds bayed, and we followed their trail through a copious wood. We had nearly given up hope and decided that they were playing some slyboot trick on us when we came to the edge of a bottomless and rock-strewn gorge. The hounds set up a most mournful wailing at that, my lady. We—we fear that—that Their Majesties…your husband…lay at the bottom of the gorge."

My mind whirled. Edmund…_my_ Edmund…dead? "It cannot be," I whispered.

Tears were gathering in Ulvilas' eyes. "But it is," he replied.

My stomach lurched, and it was all I could do to keep from retching. "But he promised," I said, almost to myself, "he promised he would never leave."

"Even the King of Narnia cannot keep Death from its destined path, my lady," Ulvilas whispered. "Narnia has lost her heart and core."

"He is not dead," I hissed. "He is alive. I would _know_ if he was dead! Edmund is _not dead_!" The room began whirling, and I swayed uncertainly. "Ed!"

"Guards, get help, quickly! The queen is unwell."

_I will find you, Edmund. You are not lost to me yet._


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

The brilliant sunset found me with my elbows on a merlon and my chin in my hands; winter was on the threshold of spring, and the chilly wind bit at my nose and stung my cheeks. But still I watched, hoping, _praying_ for some sign of my husband. I'd stood here on the battlements of Cair Paravel every spare moment since the night Edmund disappeared, and here I'd stand until he was returned to me. But no sign of life stirred on the dry hills, or in the frozen forests, or on the frosty plains.

"My lady?"

I turned at the soft voice of Erimon's new nursemaid. Her smooth red hair was pulled in a no-nonsense way away from her heart-shaped face, but even looking at her brought a sharp pang of memory, for she'd taken the position of dear Carilana. "What is it, Nikola?"

"The young prince won't settle down for his nap. Shall I bring him to you?"

"Yes," I sighed. The young girl still had much to learn. I rested my hand on my stomach, just beginning to swell with the new life inside—the new life that Edmund would have no part in.

_No, do not think that way,_ I chastised myself. _Of course he will have a part in it._

Erimon's cooing brought me back to reality, and I took the baby. The boy's blue eyes were rimmed with red, and he hiccupped forlornly in my arms. "He misses his papa," I said aloud, and Nikola curtsied respectfully.

"Everyone does, Your Majesty."

I bent to kiss Erimon's head, and he clung to my fingers. "Hush, little one," I whispered, rocking him gently back and forth. Then, to my amazement, he burbled and said in his garbled baby-language, "Mama."

"Good job, Erimon," I cooed with a big smile, and tickled his chin. "Can you say 'Papa?'"

"Papa," he parroted. "Papa!"

And then I began to weep. "Papa isn't here," I whispered, trying to keep a happy smile. "Papa is gone."

"Papa go," he echoed. "Papa go."

"Yes," I replied. "Papa go."

As I rocked him in my arms, the baby slowly drifted off to sleep, and I handed him gently to Nikola, who took him away for his nap. Then I went back to looking over the battlements.

"My lady?" said another voice soon after.

I didn't turn around. "What is it, Lord Ulvilas?"

He cleared his throat. "I…have come to…inquire as to whether or not you've…made a decision."

"About your marriage proposal?" I echoed. "Yes, I've thought about it."

"And your decision?"

I turned to face him. "I know that you are obligated, Lord Ulvilas, as lord regent to have the best interests of the surviving royal family as your top priority, and that includes taking care of the widow and her children. But did you happen to hear my son just a moment ago?"

"I did not, Your Majesty."

"He said his first word."

"Congratulations! What was it?"

"It was 'mama.' But do you know what he said next?"

"No, I do not."

"'Papa go,'" I replied. "'Papa go.'"

Ulvilas looked pained. "All of Narnia feels the loss of her monarchs very deeply indeed, Your Majesty—and you most of all."

"Then you will understand," I said calmly, "when I say I cannot accept your proposal. It has scarce been four months since he is gone, and already lords are vying for his throne."

"You must know that Narnia cannot be ruler-less," Ulvilas pleaded.

"But has anyone asked me my opinion?" I asked. "No! No one has even bothered to tell me if the contract I signed on my wedding day still holds any effect! Do I or any of my children have claim to the throne? If so, then they should bloody well have it!" I took a deep breath and covered my mouth with my hand.

"The contract is iron, Your Majesty," Ulvilas said quietly. "None of your offspring will ever hold the throne of Narnia."

I sighed. "That was all I needed to know, Lord Ulvilas. Thank you."

"You said that no one had asked your opinion of whom should hold the throne, my lady. Shall I ask it now?"

"I think—I think…oh, Lord Ulvilas, I don't know _what_ to think anymore. I—my life…is empty without Edmund. I have no purpose anymore. You don't understand."

"But I do," said a new voice, one low and warm. We turned around.

Coming toward us with soft footfalls was a great, powerful tawny lion. The sun shimmered on his mane, making it shine like pure gold, and his paws, though scarred and blemished, made no sound on the worn stone of the battlements. His wise golden eyes fell upon me, and I dropped to my knees. "Aslan…"

A gentle rumble sounded in his throat as he came nearer, and my heart raced. "Leave us, Ulvlias," he said gently, and I looked up to see Ulvilas bow and shut the door behind him. "Rise, Daughter of Eve," he said to me, and I got to my feet.

Aslan was greater and more powerful looking than he'd been at my wedding, and I could scarce look upon him, for he was so magnificent. "Aslan…" I said again.

He turned his head and looked across the plains and hills of Narnia, as I had done so many times before; and yet, as I watched, I began to wonder if he saw the crisp grass and leafless trees, or if he saw more than that—deeper, perhaps, into the history of every tree and rock. Or perhaps it was their future?

I let my eyes wander over the landscape again, and I soon felt the familiar gnawing of grief in my stomach again. Would I see him again…?

"He is not coming back," Aslan said finally.

I bowed my head with sorrow, though I had known this in my heart from the very beginning.

"At least, not in your lifetime," he went on. "Yes. Edmund is alive, and very much so."

"How…" I could not finish my sentence.

"He once told you he was not from Narnia, Daughter. Nay—he is not from your world at all, but another. He shall come back, yes, but not until Cair Paravel lies in ruins and Narnia has changed until she is unrecognizable."

Tears sprung to my eyes.

"I have taken him to his home," Aslan continued. "His time in Narnia has come to an end—at least for a while." He turned to look at me, and the infinite wisdom of his eyes overwhelmed me—yet filled me with deeper peace than I had ever imagined.

"Who _are_ you?" I whispered.

"I am King," he replied. "I am Omniscient. I am Omnificent. I am Omnipotent. I am Teacher. I am _Eloi_. But…" he added in a gentler tone, "I am your Father."

"My father is dead," I whispered, dropping my gaze.

"But I am not," he answered, and his tone held such compassion that I looked at him. "Yes, your earthly father is dead. But _I_ have beaten Death."

He turned to look over the battlements again, and this time I saw pale, puckered scars crisscrossing his long, tawny back.

"Is there a way…that I can see Edmund again?" I ventured.

"There is," he replied, and turned to face me again. My heart leaped within my chest. "But not until I say."

"Will that be a long time, Aslan?"

"It may," he replied. "Men are not given to know the full extent of their days."

"Is there a way that I can see _you_ again?" I asked boldly.

"If I have chosen you, Arrania, then yes."

"Have you chosen me?"

He looked right at me, and he was so beautiful that I could hardly stand it. Then, finally, with what looked almost like a smile, he said, _"Yes._ You shall remain in me even to the end of the age."

"Aslan…"

"What is it, my Daughter?"

"Would you be terribly angry if I said…that I love you?"

He chuckled. "Nay, Daughter, for I love you even more than you can imagine."

I began to weep—though not for grief or sorrow, but because what had felt like a lifetime's worth of pain, sorrow, grief, and heartache had slipped off of my shoulders—simply disappeared. I wanted to dance—be still—sing for joy—be silent. I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I dropped to my knees.

"Is it true?" I managed finally.

"Everything I have is yours," he replied with what was indeed a smile. "For you were lost, but now you are found. You doubted, but now you have faith. Keep that faith in me, Daughter, and I promise that I will bring you safely to the end of your days."

"I will, Aslan. And my children shall know of you, and my grandchildren when I am gone."

"Good," he said gently, and without warning, he bent his head down to me and draped it over my shoulder, and I wrapped my arms around his warm, strong neck.

"I love you, Aslan," I murmured.

"I love you, too, my Daughter," he rumbled. "Now you must return to your own, for my time here is brief."

"_Must_ you go?" I asked.

"I must," he replied, "but I am always with you, even in the darkness of your own heart."

I stood up, and he was even bigger than before. Indeed, he was so great that his essence seemed to fill every nook and cranny until even I was filled with such awe that I cannot describe it. "Goodbye, Aslan."

"No, my Daughter. This is not goodbye. It is _hello_."

I smiled, and the Lion turned and padded toward the sea. And it seemed to me, as he went down to the beach, that he glowed with such power that Death—nay, not even Time—could touch him.

I stood on the battlements, watching, until He was no more than a tiny speck on the horizon. And when I could see Him no longer, I turned and went back inside.

_The End_


	23. Epilogue

It had been too long. Far, far too long.

Edmund, once king of Narnia, surveyed the gathering of all his old friends—and some that he had never seen before, yet felt as if he'd known them all his life. There was good old Reepicheep the Mouse, with his glossy black fur and bright eyes, and a fine-looking red feather stuck jauntily into the gold circlet on his mousy brow. After him came good old Caspian X, his hair as golden and his face as joyful as it had been the day Ed and Eustace and Lucy had gone to the Ends of the Earth. And, oh!—there were the lords Drinian and Berne, and good old Trumpkin, and Glenstorm the centaur, and even Mr. and Mrs. Beaver!

"Look!" Lucy cried, tugging at Edmund's shirtsleeve. "It's King Cor and Queen Aravis, and—why, look! It's King Lune, too!"

The two Archenlandian monarchs touched their brows in greeting and bowed low.

"Lucy, there!" Edmund said, pointing behind them. "It's Tumnus!"

Indeed, the faun that had stood by their side through every trial while still they ruled Narnia, beckoned to them from the gates of the great city.

"I think he wants us to follow him," said Peter, and together he, Edmund, Lucy, Aunt Polly and the Professor and even Eustace and Jill ran up and towards the faun. It was a great distance, but they did not seem to grow weary at all. Instead, they seemed to fly—right to Tumnus' side.

"Welcome, friends," he exclaimed, and Edmund saw that his old friend still had the red scarf tied about his neck.

"Tumnus!" Lucy cried, throwing her arms around Tumnus' neck. "Dear, dear Tumnus!"

"Hello, Lucy, Edmund, Peter," Tumnus replied with a grin. "Come along—all of you follow me! The celebrations have only begun!"

Tumnus led them through the gates and into the city, where Edmund and Peter were immediately greeted by dozens of old and dear friends. Indeed, with an odd sensation in his stomach, Edmund found himself embracing a hale, hearty, auburn-bearded young man—whom, despite the fact that Edmund had never seen him before, he still felt as if he knew him personally.

"Welcome, my boy, my darling boy," said the man with a kind smile, and then Edmund knew.

"Well met, Lord Dorovan," he replied, wringing the man's hand enthusiastically.

"It is wonderful to see you again, young one," Lord Dorovan continued. "It's been much too long."

Edmund nodded in wholehearted agreement, but as he did so, he felt a strange prick at the back of his mind, as if he was seeing a familiar figure shadowed by sunlight. His cheeks flushed with frustration as he struggled to remember their face and their name—he'd known their face and voice and smell back in England, _oh_ how he longed to see them and touch them again. But _who were they_? It was as if the brightness of his surroundings somehow dimmed the memories of his past.

Lord Dorovan, who'd been watching Edmund's face, smiled such a smile that his face seemed to glow. "Do not trouble yourself, young Edmund. You won't run out of time here."

Edmund was about to ask Lord Dorovan what he meant, when Lucy's bright voice floated down to his ears: "Peter! Edmund! Come and look! Come quickly!"

Edmund's feet carried him up the stairs after Peter, and they found themselves on a stone wall overlooking a beautiful garden.

"Why!" said Peter. "It's England. And that's the house itself—Professor Kirke's old home in the country where all our adventures began!"

"I though that house had been destroyed," Edmund replied. How sick he'd felt when he'd first heard the news—pain at the knowledge that he'd never see…that very important person again, whoever they were.

"So it was," said Tumnus. "But you are now looking at the England within England, the real England just as this is the real Narnia. And in that inner England no good thing is destroyed."

Suddenly, Edmund caught a glimpse of someone waving madly at him across the valley: his very own mother and father.

"How can we get at them?" asked Lucy.

"That is easy," Tumnus replied. "That country and this country—all the _real_ countries—are only spurs jutting out from the great mountain of Aslan. We have only to walk along the ridge, upward and inward, till it joins on. And listen! There is King Frank's horn: we must all go up."

It seemed that Edmund had hardly blinked before they were standing, in a vast, colorful crowd before a great, glowing mountain, and Aslan himself was standing before them.

"My son," said he, and Edmund realized with a start of pure joy that the great lion was speaking to _him_.

"Yes, Aslan?"

"What is troubling you?"

"Well, Aslan," Edmund replied haltingly, "I am happy—very happy—but I cannot seem to remember something that seems very important. Do you know what that might be?"

"Do I know?" Aslan laughed. _"Do I know_? Of course I know, my son. And it is a problem that can be easily put right.

"The person that you grieve for is what is called, in the Shadow Lands, as your wife, Arrania of Archenland, and your two children."

As soon as Aslan had finished speaking, Edmund realized that He was right—and the grief he felt over their loss returned in full, just as it had every day since he'd fallen back into the Professor's house. And yet, it was not the grief he was used to in old England, but a sort of charged hope. "Is she here, too, Aslan?" he managed.

Aslan only smiled, and suddenly Edmund felt, sliding into his hand, a warm, tender touch. He turned, and Arrania's spirited brown eyes smiled up at him.

"Hello, Ed," she said with a wide grin, and threw her arms around his neck. "I've waited so long to see you again."

He held her closely for what seemed like a lifetime before a sturdy hand was laid on his shoulder. He was loath to let her go, but the two young boys standing behind him begged for his attention.

"Hello, Papa," said the taller one, and Edmund realized with a shock of disbelief, that the boy with grey eyes and coal black hair was none other than his son—his Erimon.

"Hello, Erimon," Ed replied with a proud grin. But words failed him, so he turned to the other boy. He had dark brown hair, almost the color of his mother's, but his bright blue eyes gave Edmund the understanding that this, indeed, was the child that Arrania had been expecting when he'd gone back.

"Hello, Papa," he said with a wide grin. "I'm Beorn."

Edmund almost couldn't bring himself to look at the children; if his past visits to Narnia were any indication of what was to come, he couldn't bear to form a relationship with his sons, only to lose them again when he returned.

"You do not yet look so happy as I mean you to be," said Aslan suddenly, and Ed turned to look at Him.

"We're so afraid of being sent away, Aslan," said Lucy. "And you have sent us back into our own world so often."

Arrania slipped her hand into Edmund's, and he squeezed it tightly. The memories of all the times they'd done the same thing to punctuate jokes or poke fun of courtiers—or even just to assure the other that they were there—filled Ed's mind like sunshine fills a dark room.

"No fear of that," Aslan replied. "have you not guessed?"

Ed's heart leaped.

"There _was_ a real railway accident," Aslan went on. "Your father and mother and all of you are—as you used to call it in the Shadow Lands—dead. The term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is ended: this is the morning."

Arrania squeezed his hand and looked at him with sparkling eyes. "Welcome home, Ed."

And here my story must end, for the things that Edmund and Arrania and Peter and Lucy and all the others experienced afterwards are not yet for us to know. It is muted, but not silent; subtle, not hidden, just as the true identity of he who is called Aslan. In time, we may find Him—and when we do…well. That will be only the beginning of the Great Story, of which Aslan is the Author, the Pen, and the Characters.

But _that_ story will never end.

**The End**


End file.
